


Whispered names and disappearing lands

by daphne_minor



Series: Way Down [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, BAMF Pepper Potts, Daredevil (TV) Spoilers, F/M, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, M/M, Minor Foggy Nelson/Marci Stahl, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Wade Wilson, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:50:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22604677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphne_minor/pseuds/daphne_minor
Summary: Peter lay on the edge of the roof, his spine pressed into the cold stone. Watching through half-open eyes as New York began to wake. A garbage truck rolling down the street, a baby crying faintly through an open window, the ever present traffic, and they all knew who Spider-Man was.Peter kept up with Daredevil before the blip, but he never expected to need his help now.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/James "Rhodey" Rhodes
Series: Way Down [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626514
Comments: 16
Kudos: 105





	1. Peter I

“There’s a camera up here, you know.” Peter nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice. He could usually sense someone approaching, but he was distracted and if he was being totally honest with himself, half asleep. And if he was being even more honest with himself, his spidey sense was fucked. A lot was fucked, honestly. He tried to sit up, but a hand gently pushed him back down into the prickly foliage. Peter couldn’t bring himself to resist. Maybe this was the end. He could live with that.

“Live feed, not monitored,” the voice continued, “But no reason to risk it, even at 4am.” Peter looked up into the - not eyes - black mask of the voice and blinked in surprise. A jolt of fear. Okay, yes, this was the end. 

A head tilt to indicate Peter should follow, and what else was he going to do? He crawled, resigned and with only some dread, following Daredevil to avoid the camera and seriously, why is there even an online feed of a green roof? Daredevil stood up near the edge, his attention half on the city below and the rest on Peter. He struck an imposing figure with the moonlit city behind him.

“I didn’t kill Mysterio, or anything that they said!” Peter burst out suddenly. Oh hey, so there was his will to live, he thought bitterly. Can’t wait to go by Daredevil’s hand. “I know you’re pretty hard on murderers...” he squeaked out. 

“Kid, it’s fine.” His voice was calm, his head cocked to the side like he was listening. To everything, probably. Peter had followed Daredevil sightings before the blip, and the guy must have seriously amazing senses. He could fight in total darkness. Kinda awesome, but he was also terrifying and tortured people, bad people sure, but Peter erred on the side of caution and generally avoided Hell’s Kitchen just in case. 

“You’re really 17, though.” 

“I - no, of course not,” Peter said, lowering his voice and immediately feeling stupid. He was pretty sure his heart was going to literally jump out of his chest. He wanted to bolt, swing off the roof, but Daredevil would probably follow him and kick his ass. And Peter wasn’t exactly in the best fighting shape. Maybe the lightheadedness was hunger. He’d chalked it up to fear and brain melting anxiety, but hunger maybe also? It had been a while since he’d eaten. Before his life had been totally fucked. Again.

“Kid...” Daredevil started, taking a hesitant step toward Peter and immediately halting as though he could feel the panic radiating off Peter. He pulled something out of his pocket and reached a hand out instead. Peter took the card, because what else was he going to do? He sighed unhappily and read it.

“A lawyer?” Peter questioned, reading Franklin Nelson, Attorney at Law. Somehow, Peter could tell that Daredevil raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t think Peter Parker needs an attorney?” he questioned. 

“I’m not - Peter who?” He was met with the eyebrow again in response. “Okay, but, I just -“ This time, Peter cut himself off, at a loss for words among the rising panic of needing a lawyer for anything, ever. Oh god, he needed to talk to Aunt May, but how was he going to do that without putting her at risk? Is harboring a teenage vigilante a crime, he thought even as his panicked brain helpfully supplied, “Yes, almost definitely.” 

“Peter,” Daredevil said sharply. Peter’s eyes snapped to him, automatically searching for his eyes. But nope, just a terrifying vigilante mask. “Stop panicking.” Daredevil’s voice was softer this time, and he was so, so still. Peter stopped spiraling into panic mode and sagged. He sat down on the roof, exhausted. He said nothing. Daredevil said nothing. At least he didn’t cut off his fingers, or something.

“Will you stay here, for just a few minutes?” Daredevil asked finally as Peter’s heart rate returned to normal after his tenth or so panic attack of the day. Peter nodded, and Daredevil disappeared to the fire escape below. Peter lay on the edge of the roof, his spine pressing into the cold stone. He watched through half open eyes as New York started to wake. A garbage truck rolling down the street, a baby crying faintly through an open window, the ever present traffic, and Peter dozed off again. 

“Kid, you can’t sleep on the roof,” Daredevil admonished gently. He dropped something soft onto Peter’s middle. Peter pulled on the black hoodie and track pants without sitting up all the way and collapsed back onto the roof. He felt a deep exhaustion that was surely part of his DNA now. The sun would rise in less than two hours, and Peter couldn’t face another day. 

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, mostly to himself.

“You can,” Daredevil said, black mask concealing his identity. From everyone. Unlike Peter.

“No offense, but as the vigilante with an intact secret identity, maybe that doesn’t mean shit coming from you?” Peter regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, but Daredevil just sighed in that way that adults do when confronted by teen angst, and it grated against the Tony-sized hole in his heart. And now Peter was pissed again and he wanted to take out his anger on the closest living superhero. Vigilante. Whatever. Daredevil spoke before Peter could come up with a seething reply that he could immediately regret.

“You can come with me,” he said a bit hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure if Peter would web him to the wall for it. “Sleep a while, get some food in you.” Peter chewed his lip, considering. He was wanted, wrongly accused but still a fugitive, and a fallen superhero in the eyes the city he wanted to protect. He swiped at his eyes angrily. Peter had never been much of a crier, even as a child, but Beck betraying his trust did a number on his, well, everything, and he was barely holding on. He was a crier now, so that was great. Peter added it to his mental list of suck.

And he couldn’t go back with Daredevil. It was just too many dead dads, its own special subset on the list of suck, and Peter was done. Daredevil (who should’ve been terrifying!) tilted his head thoughtfully at Peter. He was so earnest, and Peter just couldn’t do it again. Peter, whose very presence murdered father figures. Well, not anymore. He swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head. Daredevil kept silent and still for a long moment before acknowledging Peter.

“Mostly abandoned building that way,” Daredevil gestured. Peter was a little surprised that he hadn’t pushed, but maybe Daredevil didn't appreciate being pushed himself. The fact that he was being so kind caused Peter’s stomach to ache. Daredevil didn’t address Peter’s existential crisis. Instead, he pulled a water bottle out of nowhere and tossed it to Peter. It was one of those expensive square water bottles. A roll of bills was tucked into the wrapper. 

“I can’t-“ Peter started, but Daredevil disappeared over the roof edge. Ninja, Peter sighed, kind of regretting letting him go, but he took a deep breath and shoved that way down. Maybe when he ended up in prison, he would be assigned a psychiatrist who could tell him why he keeps latching onto superheroes with limited lifespans. Maybe there’s a pill that can fix that, he thought bitterly.

“Go see the lawyer!” a voice floated up from the fire escape.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Peter griped under his breath. 

“Heard that.” Peter glared into the darkness and took a swig of the fancy water. It tasted like all water and Peter rolled his eyes. Tucking the money into his suit and the bottle into his newly acquired hoodie, he shot a web at the next building over and started heading to his new hiding spot. His plan was to sleep and clear his head, but he woke up to a too-noisy city and a clouded brain. 

And he was sad. The anxiety had faded and now he was just plain miserable, and overwhelmed by guilt. He’d ditched MJ like a total asshole. He’d turned off his phone and disconnected his suit from FRIDAY. Pepper didn’t hover like Tony, but Peter knew his suit sent notifications to her personal phone. He’d been avoiding her (and Morgan, his brain helpfully added, and Peter felt that guilt to his core) since Beck, so that was one more thing to feel shitty about. And now they were all worried, and he was going to continue to worry them because it was better than the alternative, right? The guilt weighed on him anyway, and he decided going to Daredevil’s lawyer couldn’t make anything worse.


	2. Peter II

And so Peter stood before a nondescript rowhouse in a line of nondescript rowhouses. The wrought iron railing was warm under his hand, a reminder that it was daylight and he should be panicking instead of standing calmly in front of a lawyer’s office. Small mercies, but at least his extremely recognizable suit was hidden except for the boots, which barely peaked out from under the slightly too-long pants. He took a deep breath, a small sign in the worn but clean window confirming he was in the right place. 

Franklin Nelson, attorney at law  
Wade Wilson, private investigator

Peter hesitantly opened the door and found himself being given the once-over by a young girl behind a well-worn wooden desk. She reminded him disturbingly of Michelle. And shut that thought down, Peter gritted his teeth. MJ was smart, resourceful, didn’t take shit. She could take care of herself, right? He hoped she was okay, and he mentally shoved that out of his mind with three dozen other things he couldn’t think about right now.

Brown eyes met his own and the girl at the desk gave the most exaggerated sigh.

“Foggy, Matt’s sending us strays again!” Peter frowned. A stray? So rude. But probably accurate, he admitted to himself with only some bitterness. An unimpressed man in suit with a blond top knot and a neatly trimmed beard appeared in the doorway to the only other room in the office. He also gave Peter the once-over and didn’t look any more impressed. No one spoke, so Peter broke the silence. 

“I need a lawyer?” he said, and wished himself a merciful and immediate death when his voice cracked on “lawyer.”

“Oh, do you?” obviously-a-lawyer said, raising an eyebrow in a disconcerting imitation of Daredevil. “I don’t take emancipation cases. Unless you have a trust hidden in that hoodie that isn’t even yours, it’s never approved.” 

“Uh, no it’s not anything like that,” Peter stammered, “I guess it’s more like murder? I mean like defense! I didn’t do it! Not...not really.” Peter wilted under the piercing stare that followed his declaration. He glanced at the girl at the desk, who was looking at him like he was a particularly interesting zoo specimen. Peter was ready to bolt when obviously-a-lawyer spoke.

“Alright, get in here,” he sighed. It was a Daredevil sigh, too, but this guy wasn’t Daredevil. Just his - lawyer? He disappeared into the back office. Peter’s spidey sense was quiet, and this guy wasn’t Daredevil, and apparently not particularly dangerous? So Peter should follow him, right? “Today!” obviously-a-lawyer snapped from the other room. 

Peter rushed in and closed the door behind him so he could press his back against it and try to melt into the wood. Maybe he could just become part of the building. He could live with that. Any building, really, as long as he didn’t have human responsibilities anymore. Peter finally focused his attention back to the man in front of him.

Franklin Nelson, according to the nameplate, was sitting on the edge of his desk and looking expectantly at Peter. In the corner of the room, a guy with a blue rhinestone-adorned hoodie pulled over his face was polishing what were definitely katanas. He did not acknowledge Peter at all, so Peter stopped staring at the katanas and took a deep breath. 

“Mr. Nelson,” he started, “Mr. Daredevil gave me-“ And then a number of things all happened all at once.

Rhinestone hoodie jumped up and shrieked, “Oh my god SPIDEY!” as the katanas clattered loudly to the floor. Peter, overwhelmed and sleep deprived, could suddenly hear everything from everywhere. A tv on the floor above was screaming, “Spider-Man: still in the city? Spider-Man: murderer and delinquent teen? Could he really be a 17 year old from Queens? More Spider-Man news at noon!” Dozens of people were ordering lunch in the surrounding shops, and he could smell every single pizza slice, smear of lox and flavored coffee. So much talking, to each other and one-sided phone conversations. The sour odor of trash that hadn’t been picked up yet, and exhaust from thousands of cars.

Peter’s spidey sense was screaming and he grabbed at his chest because he was going to suffocate, right now. He was back with Beck, the train barreling toward him, Tony burned in the iron man suit crawling out of his grave and pointing an accusing finger at Peter, and he was trapped under the building and concrete pillars and he sobbed wordlessly. A hand closed around his wrist by his chest, and Peter froze.

“Spidey,” barely a whisper. “Breathe, Spidey.” Peter took one shaky breath before his lungs crushed under the pressure and he frantically shook his head no. He couldn’t breathe again. “Shh, shh, don’t do that. Just my voice.” Peter honed in on the voice. It was a regular guy voice, not really what Peter would have expected from katana guy. The fingers slipped from his wrist to stroke the back of his hand, and Peter stilled. Touch brought him back quicker. It was easier to focus on one sensation at a time, and touch was easier to filter out from everything else. It brought Peter back into Hell’s Kitchen, back into the lawyers office, back into himself. He glanced up at mister rhinestone hoodie. 

His face was scarred, the same texture that Peter had felt on his wrist. He was a head taller than Peter, built like a brick house and just recently in possession of multiple katanas. Peter’s completely stupid spidey sense was absolutely silent. Instead, it practically purred.

“Wade Wilson,” rhinestone hoodie said, taking Peter’s hand to shake when he realized Peter was not going to offer. His eyes were kind and his voice friendly, in spite of being some kind of sword-wielding bodybuilder.

Peter swayed on his feet, belatedly realizing that Daredevil had given him the cash for _food_. It was still tucked into his suit, save for $2 for a coffee from a street vendor earlier. Peter could still smell the garbage outside, still hear the shrill tv news, and his stomach roiled. 

“I-“ Peter started weakly, and Wade shoved a trash can at him as Peter vomited up bitter coffee and stomach acid. He dropped to his knees, dry heaving while Wade rubbed circles lightly on his back. 

“Shhh, it’s okay Petey, we’ll take care of you,” he cooed. Peter couldn’t even bring himself to deny that he was Peter Parker anymore. He let himself lean into the pressure from Wade’s hand on his back. “Ellie, grab us a water!” he called to the other room. Ellie-with-an-attitude brought in a water bottle and wrinkled her nose. And Peter thought he’d topped out on misery and embarrassment, but apparently not. “Thanks, baby!” Wade called, earning him an eyeroll from Ellie as she left Foggy's office.

“Whatever, dad."

“You really are a total dad,” said Mr. Nelson, still perched on the edge of his desk, unphased by the vomiting teenager on the floor of his office. 

“I am quite literally her dad.” Wade’s eyeroll was identical to Ellie’s from seconds before.

Peter sipped the water and watched them bicker. It was the same expensive Daredevil water. Maybe Daredevil needed a lawyer a lot, but Peter wracked his brain and couldn’t come up with any reason why. He didn’t think he’d been caught vigilante-ing by the police before.

“But you’re going to take his case, right?” Wade questioned, snapping Peter out of his thoughts. He realized they had been taking over him for quite a while. Mr. Nelson visibly hesitated at Wade’s question, and Peter blinked slowly, gathering himself together.

“I’m...trouble,” Peter frowned. His heart hurt, but he understood. “You don’t - I don’t want to impose, I just can’t. I put everyone in danger, just, all the time,” he finished quietly, shoulders slumped. These were just more people to drag down with him. Parker luck was not the good kind of luck, lately.

“Oh honey,” Wade said, hauling Peter up off the floor and crushing him in a hug. “Foggy, you can’t say no to Red!” he admonished. Red being Daredevil, Peter assumed.

“I’ve been saying no to him my entire adult life,” Mr. Nelson (Foggy, really?) said. He tells Daredevil off? Who is this guy? Foggy looked resigned and turned to Peter. “You have a dollar in that ridiculous suit somewhere?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Peter said, pulling a couple bills out. He handed them to Mr. Nelson. 

“Great, now you’re my client. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tank your case on purpose, but it wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“Mr. Nelson, sir, thank you for doing this,” Peter said, and to his horror started tearing up. Get a hold of yourself, Parker. His internal pep talk did not help at all, and he rubbed his eyes. Wade honest-to-god cooed at him, and Peter was sure he turned pink. He wasn’t a fucking baby, he thought as he buried his head into Wade’s rhinestone hoodie anyway. It was like snuggling the softest pillow on the hardest bed. Peter wondered if Wade was significantly less cuddly dad and more terrifying bodybuilder with swords during his day job.

“Please call me Foggy, and no more ‘sir,” he grumbled. “God, you people are a mess. Wade, go get this child some food. Peter, sit down and tell me everything. I mean it. Everything!” Wade gave a long suffering sigh and walked out the door, leaving the katanas behind in a pile on the floor.

“Not a child,” Peter grumbled, sinking into the chair in front of Foggy’s desk. He missed Wade already, which his brain screamed was ridiculous. But Peter was being lead only by his emotions now.

“When are you 18?” asked Foggy, ignoring Peter’s sulking. He watched Peter attentively over the legal pad he was scribbling on.

“In a month,” Peter answered. “But I was snapped, so...” 

“So you’re also 22,” Foggy finished for him. “It’s been weird since everyone came back, if I’m going to be honest. The courts can’t figure out how to deal with teenagers who are kinda also in their 20s. I would obviously like to keep you out of adult court but, hey, it’s Spider-Man.”

Oh my God, court. He was going to be arrested. “I don’t think I can do this,” Peter said quietly, shrinking further into the chair. He balled his hands up in the hoodie sleeves and curled his arms around his knees. His senses were starting to act up again, he was still hungry, he felt rattled. Everything felt wrong. He missed May and he wanted to go home and sleep for days. 

“Hey,” Foggy said, his voice gentle, without a trace of the earlier impatience. Peter looked up and met his eyes. “This is normal. You are normal. Everybody feels this way. At least I’m meeting you here and not at the police station, right?” Peter nodded. Foggy was right. 

And so Peter talked. He talked while he ate the pizza that Wade returned with, and he told Foggy (and Wade) everything, admittedly glossing over the hallucinations with Beck. Foggy noticed, his eyes shrewdly focused on Peter, but he didn’t push. 

“So,” Foggy said as Peter finished up his story with meeting Daredevil on the roof, “we can go about this a couple different ways. Do you want to clear Spider-Man’s name, or do you want to deny that Peter Parker is Spider-Man?” 

“Both,” Peter said without hesitation. “But maybe the secret identity first?” He didn’t realize until the words were in the air, but severing the tie between Peter Parker and Spider-Man was his priority. Spider-Man would be proven innocent soon enough, he was sure of it. The truth will out, after all. But the secret identity was harder. Reconstructing a lie would be infinitely more difficult than revealing a truth. 

Foggy nodded. “Right, give me some time to put something together. And go get some sleep.” He rattled off an address and added, “Matt’s not doing anything, so he’ll be happy to have someone to mommy for a minute.” Wade snorted. Peter gawped. 

“I can’t just go to some stranger’s apartment!” 

Foggy looked at Peter like he was an exceptional kind of idiot. “I realize stranger danger is an important part of today’s kindergarten curriculum, but I've seen you literally throw a car on YouTube, so maybe you’re past that particular risk?” Peter continued to stare at Foggy. He glanced at Wade, who shrugged. These people were insane, Peter was sure of it.

Foggy gave a long-suffering sigh. “He’s trustworthy, I swear!” He looked to Wade for back up. Wade nodded. 

“Go on, baby spider. Matty’ll take care of you.” The spidey sense continued its Wade-induced nap, and the temptation of resting on an actual bed sent Peter back out onto the streets of Hell’s Kitchen.


	3. Peter III

The stairwell smelled vaguely like subway tunnels and cheap paint. Peter wrinkled his nose. Before he was Spider-Man, he never would’ve suspected that cheap paint had its own unpleasant chemical smell. The subway smell never bothered him, though, before or after the spider bite. Something in the underlying scent told him he was home. Peter could never leave New York City now. The thought of adjusting to a new set of odors nearly sent him into a panic. 

Suddenly, he found himself in front of the right apartment. Before Peter could raise his hand to knock, the door flew open.

“Are you okay?” Apparently Matt asked. Red glasses, white stick, head cocked as though he was listening. Peter nodded and felt like an idiot for a full eight seconds before speaking.

“Um, yeah, sorry,” he stammered. “I..nodded.” 

“Happens all the time. Matt,” he said, sticking out his hand. Matt’s handshake was stronger than he would’ve expected. Peter would swear on his life that Matt knew he was thinking that, and that he knew Peter noticed him noticing. Peter was unsettled. 

But his spidey sense was totally asleep. Maybe it was broken? Peter decided it was easier to just believe Matt was safe-ish. As Foggy pointed out, Peter could throw a car. He could definitely take this guy, not that he expected it to come to that. 

Matt invited him in, and Peter wandered around the open space of the apartment while Matt made tea. Now that he was indoors, Peter felt restless. He was a different kind of trapped now. There were people helping him, and he had to keep them safe after this mess was cleared up, if it ever was. 

“Thank you for this,” Peter said quietly as he sipped his tea. The warmth seeped into his bones and felt nice, in spite of the hot day outside. Peter had always run cold, but it was worse since the spider bite.

“You’re welcome, but it’s not an imposition,” Matt answered. “Anything I can do to help.”

Peter was a little unsettled that Matt seemed to sense he felt guilty, but he brushed it aside. Maybe he was just good at reading people. 

“How do you know Foggy?” Peter asked, hoping he could lead Matt into small talk and avoid another anxiety-inducing serious conversation. Peter was pretty sure he was close to his limit on those today. 

“We were roommates in law school.” A lawyer. Well that explained the uncanny people-reading ability. Matt continued, “Law partners for a while, but I didn’t really go back to it after the blip. Five years of case law to catch up on didn’t seem too appealing.” 

“I was gone, too,” said Peter. “Coming back was weird.” Matt nodded in agreement. 

“Almost everyone I knew was gone,” he said. “My entire law school class, except for Foggy.” Matt sighed sadly. “He’s...not the same. He lost everyone. I never thought I’d be glad that anyone I knew found themselves with Wade, but I’m not sure if Foggy would be here if it wasn’t for him.” Peter was about to ask why Matt objected to Wade, but Matt spoke first. 

“Well, you probably want to get cleaned up and get some sleep. I’ll find some clothes for you while you shower,” he said as he headed toward what Peter assumed was the bedroom. “Foggy said you ate, but let me know if you need anything else.” 

Matt set Peter up with everything he needed and added, “Foggy said it’s fine to turn on your phone, assuming you have location services disabled.” Peter nodded and his heart skipped a beat. Being disconnected from his people was hard. He was a teenager. He lived through his phone. 

“No contact yet, but you can read your texts. There’s a few chargers under the sink,” Matt hesitated before adding, “You’ve been through a lot. Don’t make it harder on yourself. Avoid The Bugle at least.” 

Peter could do that. Peter was, in fact, going to shower while his phone charged and google the fuck out of Foggy Nelson. The warm water didn’t do much to soothe the anxiety running through him, especially with the background noise of his constantly buzzing phone. Peter took a deep breath, turned off the water and checked his phone. 

MJ, Ned and May, in order of least to most panicked. Pepper, Happy, FRIDAY (Peter didn’t even know she could text), literally everyone on the AcaDec Team and lots of numbers that weren’t in his phone. He ignored all of those. He read May’s texts and maybe cried a little. Pepper’s texts comforted him, asserting that she’d take care of it, but were short and light on details. Peter forced himself to leave the rest of his messages alone for his own mental health, and he resisted the temptation of Spider-Man news by looking up Foggy and Matt. 

He fell into a lengthy article about the Punisher trial before he googled Wade on a whim and nearly dropped his phone. 

Deadpool. Wade Wilson was fucking Deadpool. He killed people for money. He enjoyed killing people for money. Not long after he found out about Spider-Man, Ned had pulled up a video of Deadpool menacing a guy with a katana. Specifically, Deadpool left behind the need for stitches scattered throughout a ten minute monologue about consent. The part of Peter’s brain that wanted to cuddle up to Wade helpfully noted that he was menacing a guy who stalked middle school girls, as though this made up for the fact Wade’s hobbies included inventing creative methods of decapitation. Some sensible part of Peter’s brain reminded him that Ned pulled up the video to beg Peter to run in the opposite direction if Spider-Man ever encountered Deadpool. 

Thirty seconds of deliberation, and Peter decided to trust the spidey sense on Wade. If Tony has bothered to survive, he would kill Peter, but he was fucking dead so Peter was doing what he had to and if that meant help from Deadpool, then that was how it was going to go. It’s not like the fucking Avengers were here to offer him well, anything. 

A sudden knock on the bathroom door startled him. 

“Peter?” Matt questioned. Peter looked at the time on his phone. He had been hunkered down on the bathroom floor for a while. He quickly pulled on the clean sweatpants and shirt Matt had left for him and opened the door. 

“Just, uh, got carried away,” Peter said, running his hand through his wet hair. Matt nodded. 

“Why don’t you try to sleep for a while? Foggy should be here by dinner, and we can figure out what you want to do from here.” 

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Peter said. Matt set Peter up in his bed, over Peter’s objections that faded when he sank into the satin sheets. 

“Oh my god, these are amazing,” Peter said into the pillow, embarrassed that he was figuratively drooling over this complete stranger’s sheets. Matt laughed lightly. 

A loud crash in the distance jarred Peter from his bed worship, but his heartbeat slowed at the realization that it was probably just the new guy on dumpster duty today. Matt’s head was cocked in the direction of the noise, like he was listening, too. Peter sat up suddenly and blinked in disbelief. Matt looked straight at him, which he shouldn’t have been able to do. 

“Oh my god,” Peter whispered. So many things fell into place. “Oh my god,” he repeated. Matt’s expression remained carefully neutral.

Peter had a thousand questions, but what came out was a weak, “That explains the high thread count.”

Matt laughed, a genuine chuckle that Peter would never have expected from Daredevil. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and Peter belatedly realized that he’d stopped using the cane after Peter had come out of the shower. He wasn’t hiding his identity at all.

“You knew I would figure it out, sooner or later,” Peter said. Matt nodded.

“I didn’t know how perceptive your senses were, but it seemed like just a matter of time. And also a fair exchange, Peter Parker.” Peter nodded, since Matt could apparently notice that.

“Would the suit make any difference to you being able to tell who I am?” Peter was curious. Matt shook his head. 

“No, it smells like you but just more mechanical. And I’ll be honest that it makes a shit ton of noise, like you have thirty phones. You would never be able to sneak up on a ninja.”

“I need all those phones for TikTok,” Peter quipped. Matt smirked. 

“I wish I could say I’m too old to know what that is, but Wade’s daughter is on it constantly.” Matt eyed Peter curiously when he flinched at the mention of Wade.

“I have mixed feelings about Wade,” Peter admitted. Not really, you don’t, his brain whispered. 

“It’s fine to compartmentalize after trauma.” Peter raised his eyebrows. Where was Matt going with this? “You have a lot to work through,” he continued. “You have to prioritize or you’ll never get anywhere. Wade is safe, to you at least. Focus on what’s sending you into panic attacks. You can figure out where Spider-Man stands with Deadpool later.” 

Peter started on more Daredevil questions, but Matt interrupted. “Go to sleep, Peter. I’ll wake you if anything important happens.” Peter had been sinking deeper into the sheets as they’d been talking, and his eyes were half closed already. He hummed in agreement and didn’t realize he’d been asleep until he heard quiet voices from the other room. The light in Matt’s room had faded, so it was probably early evening. Peter had been asleep for hours. He considered getting up, but the whispers from living room were getting heated, keeping him where he was.

“I’ve registered my objections and it seems like you don’t care enough to listen.” Matt, angry. 

“This is his best option, Matt. If we give Tower this, he’ll bend when it counts. We have to get the kid home.” Foggy, pleading.

“I hate it. And also, no. No one is turning in the spider baby. Once he’s in there, we lose control, even if you think the DA will let us bail him right out.” Wade, calm. But with a current of danger underneath that ran straight up Peter’s spine. Before Peter’s still groggy mind could form a coherent thought, the hushed conversation in the living room was interrupted by several phones buzzing.

“Fuck,” said Foggy. “Matt, get the kid up.” 

Peter was already sitting on the edge of the bed when Matt opened the door. “Grab your phone.” It didn’t take Peter long to pull up the live video, his phone displaying Pepper Potts, impeccably dressed in a blue pantsuit, in what he recognized as the Stark Industries lobby. She was in front of a monitor with a video of a Spider-Man playing behind her.

“Pepper Potts reveals new Spider-Man footage” scrolled across the bottom of his screen. Peter swallowed nervously, joining the others in the living room without taking his eyes off the phone. A quick glance revealed Foggy and Wade glued to their phones as well, with Matt listening intently. 

Pepper explained in a cool tone that Quentin Beck was a disgruntled former Stark Industries employee who went after Spider-Man in an attempt to harm Tony Stark’s legacy. She showed the real footage from when Peter confronted Beck. Peter closed his eyes. He had to listen, to know what Pepper was saying, but he couldn’t watch. Wade wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulder, and Peter had never been more grateful. He pressed himself into Wade’s side, earning himself a fond squeeze. This close to Wade, and Peter barely thought of Deadpool. But the knowledge was still there, tugging uncomfortably at his heart. 

Pepper ended her talk with, “Before I take questions from the media, I would ask you to respect Peter Parker’s privacy during what is a very stressful time for him." She was playing it as though he knew where he was. Guilt washed over Peter. He felt like such an asshole. 

Of course, the first question was basically, "But why Peter Parker?" He only thought Pepper was icy talking about Beck. 

“It is easily accessible information that Mr. Parker is a Stark Industries intern, making him an easy target for baseless rumor mongering.” If looks could kill, Pepper would put every reporter in New York in the ground.

“She’s so scary. I think I’m in love,” whispered Wade. Peter snorted, earning him a cheeky grin from Wade. Foggy and Matt, intensely focused, ignored them.

“But why him?” a blond reporter pressed Pepper. She looked vaguely familiar to Peter. “Dozens of Stark interns, and the one implicated has been in the same place as Spider-Man more than a few times. Quite a coincidence, Ms. Potts.” She looked smug, and Pepper faltered. Peter felt sick. This was it. He hadn’t been careful enough, and nothing could fix this. Wade squeezed him reassuringly. Peter would die without him, he’s nearly sure. 

Pepper hesitated again and looked off to the side, toward someone not visible on camera, before she spoke. 

“Mr. Parker worked with Tony directly on Spider-Man’s suit, and has continued to work with the various Spider-Man suits since the blip,” Pepper explained. The low murmur of the crowd increased. A few surprised gasps were audible, even through the tinny phone speakers. Pepper raised her voice. “Being that Mr. Parker is a minor and Spider-Man is a somewhat contentious public figure, we had hoped to keep that information close, but-“ she gestured helplessly, the implication that they were all vultures heavy in the air. 

Peter inhaled shakily, some of his anxiety subsiding. What had he ever done to deserve Pepper?

“That was - wow,” said Matt. Peter nodded in agreement, and Matt continued. “I’m a pretty good lie detector, due to my hearing being able to pick up heartbeats.” 

“So, so creepy,” Wade leaned down and muttered to Peter. Matt threw a perturbed look in their direction but went on.

“That was - it was total bullshit!” Matt exclaimed. “She completely played them from ‘don’t ask about Peter.’ All that stuff about not taking about how Peter worked on the suit - she absolutely planned it.”

“And it’s not technically a lie,” said Peter. 

“The best way to bend the truth,” Matt agreed. “She would make a killer lawyer.” He looked pleased, and they all looked over at Foggy, who had planted himself at Matt’s kitchen table and was furiously taking notes on a legal pad. He looked over at Peter and stood up, stretching. 

“You’re so not turning yourself in,” Foggy said, as though that was Peter’s idea in the first place. “I’ll take care of it with the D.A., figure out how pissed he is at me.” Peter could already tell that Foggy liked pissing people off if he thought he was right. Peter could live with that.

“No Ellie tonight?” Matt asked Wade. Well, things were definitely looking up if Matt was willing to discuss something other than Peter’s hot mess life. Wade was slightly tense beside him. Peter gave him a questioning glance, but Wade pretended not to notice.

“Nah, with her mom,” he said to Matt. “She wants 50/50, but we’re working up to it.” Matt appeared skeptical.

“And how’s that going?” he asked sincerely.

“Eh, a little better. I have explained, over and over, that Ellie can’t blame her mom for disappearing, but what are you gonna do?” Wade shrugged and looked down at Peter.

“You know how violating that is,” Foggy suddenly spat. Peter was startled by the venom in his voice. Matt, laser focused on Foggy, answered.

“I can’t help it,” he said calmly. 

“Tune. It. Out.” The look on Foggy’s face was murderous.

“You know that’s not how it works,” Matt went from zero to agitated in a moment. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet like he was itching for a fight. Wade caught Peter's gaze and shook his head minutely. Just riding this out then. Peter had experienced enough Avengers personal conflict to know when it was time to shut up. 

“You can hear dozens of heartbeats right now, so make it background noise!” Foggy said loudly, storming over to Matt and getting in his face.

“You have never been background noise!” Matt burst out, fists clenched at his side. He matched Foggy’s fast breathing, and Foggy narrowed his eyes angrily. The room was tense. No one moved for a full ten seconds, until Foggy turned away and walked to the window. He faced away from everyone, gripping the window sill, and took a deep breath. Matt stood with his eyes closed, his breath still mirroring Foggy’s.

Peter mused silently that it was a great injustice teenagers were considered the moody ones in a world that had superheroes. And lawyers. 

“Well, I’m going to take this spider baby home unless anyone has any objections,” Wade said abruptly, steering Peter toward the door. Peter grabbed a backpack on his way out, borrowed from Matt to hide the suit. 

“Thank you both, for everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” Peter said earnestly. Matt and Foggy managed to stop glowering at each other long enough to look touched. Foggy promised to call Peter the next day to tie up loose ends, and Peter headed home at last.


	4. Peter IV

Wade chatted the entire cab ride back to Queens. He talked expertly about absolutely nothing. Peter listened, but Wade’s rambling faded into background noise, and Peter’s eyes started to droop. 

“Wakey wakey, baby boy.” Peter’s eyes flew open and he gasped. 

“Oh my God,” he said, grabbing his chest. “I didn’t know I was asleep.” Wade looked amused from above Peter, who had slid halfway down the seat into a scrunched up mess. Spidey flexibility though, at least he wouldn’t be sore from sleeping like a pretzel.

“We gotta get out on your side, so don’t fall out,” Wade said as he reached past Peter for the door handle. Peter grabbed his backpack and stretched as he stood up. He felt a little better with the threat arrested gone, but his nerves were shot. He was so jumpy that his skin itched, and he wondered if he’d ever feel normal again.

“You have your phone back,” Wade said, gesturing to where Peter already had it in his hand, the Gen Z security blanket. “So out with it. Ask all the questions a baby spider should know.” He gave Peter a pointed glance, and Peter sagged. He had intended to avoid this conversation for as long as possible, preferably forever. But Wade had the cab drop them off five blocks away, so here they were.

“Can we just not?” Peter pleaded. “It’s just - I have 99 problems and Deadpool is like, the 98th. I just want to - put it in a box for now, and deal with it later.”

Wade slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “But the thing is, that’s bullshit. That is some advanced level Catholic avoidance shit that Matty is putting in your head.” He tapped Peter’s forehead for emphasis. Peter glared at him. It felt like Wade, Matt and Foggy had spent a lot of time discussing Peter outside of his presence, and it rankled him.

“So what do you suggest?” Peter snapped. He was agitated, but Wade didn’t take the bait. 

“Figure out where you stand, baby boy,” Wade said softly. “You can either live with me or not.” 

“But I like you.” Peter’s heart clenched. “I am freaking out about all of this,” he gestured at the skyline, “But I feel okay with you. Safe, I guess.”

“You imprint like a duckling,” said Wade, not unkindly. Peter bristled. He took out his phone and started typing.

“Can baby ducks reimprint after half a dozen dead parents?” Peter said under his breath. Wade sucked in unhappily as Peter stormed off ahead of him.

Wade only let Peter go for a few seconds before catching up. “That was outta line, I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing Peter’s arm and facing him. He was still wearing the rhinestone hoodie, his face mostly hidden. Peter could see enough to tell that Wade was sincere, but it stung that he could read Peter so easily. “How about one time permission to avoid this particular conversation without me calling you a Daredevil avoidance clone?” 

Peter smiled, and Wade’s shoulders relaxed. “How did you end up here during the blip?” Peter asked, relieved to change the subject.

“Well, I actually live here, most of the time, but I didn’t work here before, because I’m not a total fucking moron.” He glanced at Peter. Ah, right, enhanced mercenary in a city full of supes would be a hard no. 

“But then half of everyone disappears, so I make my way back to New York, and there is already an official notice from Child Services taped to my door.” 

“About Ellie?” 

“Yep, my very own nine year old that I never knew existed.” Peter stopped suddenly and looked up at Wade. 

“You didn’t know?” Wade looked nonchalant about the entire situation, but he’d had five years to adjust to it. 

“Well no, but I don’t blame her mama. I used to be pretty, Peter, but I’ve always been a sonofabitch.” Wade ran his hand over his head, a stubborn habit from when he had hair. Peter couldn’t imagine him as not-Deadpool. Laughing off a hail of bullets seemed like an integral part of his being. 

“So they just dropped a kid on you, like that?” Peter asked. “I thought there was some kind of a process, maybe?” 

“Like who is going to give Deadpool a kid to raise, DNA aside?” Wade raised his nonexistent eyebrows at Peter. Peter flushed and started to apologize, but Wade cut him off.

“It’s alright, baby boy. You’re not wrong, but things were different after the dusting,” Wade said. “There were kids with no parents everywhere, and it was like child custody puzzle pieces all over the country. Carmelita, and we obviously did not part on good terms, told Ellie that her daddy was Wade Wilson, he’s in New York City, and he is a bad man so don’t go looking for him even if you think you wanna know him. And that’s all the info a social worker in Illinois needed to find me up here.”

“That is...wild,” said Peter. Wade nodded in agreement. 

“And believe it or not, Petey, my background check comes back clean.” Deadpool didn’t leave loose ends. Peter decided not to dwell on that. “So,” Wade continued, “I give the social worker a call and within 48 hours, I meet this tiny little thing with braids who takes one look at me and says, ‘Well, aren’t you an ugly sucker. Got any games on your phone?’” 

Wade sighed deeply. “And I was in love,” he said fondly. Peter thought it was sweet. The pair walked in comfortable silence the rest of the way to Peter’s building. As happy as he was to be home, Peter hesitated. 

“She’ll be mad,” Peter said. He texted May in the cab, but she wanted to call him and he texted her not to, that he’d be home soon. He was sure that he hurt her feelings, or she would think that he wasn’t safe, or there were surely several other things that could go wrong. His breath stuttered.

“Let’s not on the hyperventilating,” Wade said, taking Peter’s hand and placing it on his chest. “Breathe with me, baby boy.” Peter inhaled sharply, but his next breath was calmer. “She’ll just be happy to have you home.”

Wade walked Peter up to his apartment, following Peter in when he opened the door. May grabbed him and squeezed him into a hug before he could take in anything else. 

“Oh honey, I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said tearfully. Peter pulled back to look at her face. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with tears. He took a deep breath and took in his surroundings. Chip bags and energy drink cans everywhere, like the apartment was home base for find-Peter operations. Happy stood near the door, not subtle as he looked Wade over. He came over to Peter and patted his back. 

“Good to have you home, kid.” Happy’s eyes were just a little red-rimmed, and guilt flared in Peter. He swallowed tightly. 

“Hey,” said May, turning his head toward her again with a hand under his chin. “None of that now. You’re home. It’ll be okay.” Peter nodded and looked away, finally locking eyes with the only other person in the room. 

MJ sat perched on the back of the sofa, her socked feet pressed into the cushions. She fidgeted with the fleece blanket that was across her lap. Peter pulled away from May and hesitantly approached her. MJ never took her eyes off him, and he offered her a hand. His heart was hammering in his chest. If she couldn’t forgive him, he didn’t know what he was going to do. 

She took his hand and threw her arms around him. Peter wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck, breathing her in. Everything had been so overwhelming, and Peter’s senses were so fucked right now, but MJ just felt right. And Peter promptly burst into tears. 

MJ tensed and Peter tried to pull away, but she squeezed him tighter. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she soothed quietly. Peter sobbed harder. MJ was not a crier. It was unfair of him to make her deal with his messiness, but thinking about that just made him cry harder.

“I’m s - sorry,” Peter managed to get out between sobs. MJ shushed him and pulled away just enough to pull his hoodie up to shield his face. 

“We need a minute,” she said to the room of adults as she steered Peter toward his bedroom. MJ shut the door, pulled Peter’s hoodie off over his head and pressed her lips against his. Peter felt like he was awake for the first time in days. He slid his hands along MJ’s waist, under the hem of her shirt, and deepened the kiss. She squeaked in surprise, and Peter smiled against her lips. The kiss got heavier and MJ abruptly pulled back. 

“You’re an ugly crier, Parker,” she said gently, her tone kinder than her words. She brushed the tears off his cheeks. Peter huffed a breath and buried his face in her neck. 

“Everything feels so awful,” he mumbled. MJ played with the curls around his ears, and he sighed contentedly. “I can like, hear and smell all of Queens. It kind of makes me want to throw up. But you block it all out.”

MJ hummed, and he felt the vibration from his chest to his toes. “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s noise canceling headphones,” MJ said, without a hint of humor. 

“Why you gotta be such a meanie?” asked Peter, trailing kisses down her neck. Peter could survive on the memory of the little breathy noise she made. He dug his fingers into her hips and slid his leg in between hers.

“Jesus fuck,” she breathed, which only encouraged him. Peter needed her, desperately, worse than anything. He kissed her again, her mouth hot and her fingers cool, stroking across his belly where she’d snuck her hands under his shirt.

“I need to be inside you,” he whispered against her mouth. 

“Oh my god,” MJ whispered. She pulled away to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes lingered on Peter’s lips. “Not that I don’t -“ she stumbled over her words, and Peter resisted the temptation to shove her up against the wall. Barely. “But your aunt and Happy are in the next room, and I just don’t think I can be that quiet, Peter.” MJ winked, and Peter lost the upper hand. She was so hard to tease. She laughed when he blushed. 

“You’re still all teary,” she said, one hand stroking his cheek gently. “You want me to fend off the mothering? I’ll tell May you’re going to bed.” 

“Please,” Peter said, suddenly exhausted. His emotional regulation was nonexistent at the moment. “You’ll come back?”

MJ rolled her eyes. “Obviously, Peter. I think May is going to overlook it this one time if I spend the night in your room.” Peter sat down heavily on his bed and flopped over onto his pillow. So comfortable.

“You slept in my bed last night, too,” he said into the pillow. He breathed in deeply again and gave MJ an amused look. “With Ned?” 

MJ threw up her hands. “You boys are needy.” 

“You don’t mean it,” Peter pouted playfully.

“Oh, I do,” she answered. “FaceTime him before he blows up my phone again. He’s as bad as your aunt.” Peter’s chest squeezed. It was good to be home, but he felt so guilty about freaking out and making everyone worry. MJ gave him a sympathetic look as she closed the door behind her. 

Ned tried to be cool about the whole thing but started crying thirty seconds into their call. “Peter, I was just so worried. I couldn’t find you and freakin PEPPER couldn’t find you and we figured you blocked us out on purpose but what if you hadn’t?” He sniffled and wiped his sleeve across his face. “What if you were on the Raft? I’d never see you again.” 

“I know, I know,” Peter said. “I panicked. I panicked and made some fucked up decisions and...kind of ended up on a roof with Daredevil?”

“You suck, Spider-Man,” said Ned, fond and exasperated, before demanding information about Daredevil and Foggy and weirdly enough, the Punisher trial. Ned had always been thoroughly informed on the superhero scene, but he had dialed it up since the blip. Peter, on the other hand, couldn’t stomach it anymore. It all just reminded him of loss. Ned understood and only shared what he thought Spider-Man needed to know. 

“You know your lawyer works with a P.I., right?” Ned looked concerned.

“Umm,” said Peter, stalling to come up with a lie. MJ took that completely inopportune time to come back into the room. 

“Well, Wade certainly hovers like a mother hen,” she said, dropping onto Peter’s bed and leaning back against the wall. “Charmed your aunt, though. Happy looked extra cranky about it.” 

“Peter.” Ned’s voice was tense. MJ raised her eyebrows questioningly at Peter. “Tell me I’m wrong right now.” Peter swallowed tightly. 

“What’s going on?” asked MJ. Peter shook his head at Ned. MJ narrowed her eyes.

“She doesn’t know?” said Ned. He was mad. Peter needed to diffuse this, fast.

“Please,” he begged. “I know what I’m doing.” Ned snorted in disbelief. “It’s fine, I swear. The spidey sense doesn’t go off around him, and even Daredevil says he’s a safe person.”

“Daredevil??” mouthed MJ.  
“A safe person?” Ned bit out. 

“Well, not safe to like, a guy selling drugs to children but -“ 

“But nothing. It’s fine,” Ned said, in that way when things weren’t fine. 

“He wouldn’t hurt me, I promise,” Peter said. Ned was silent for a few seconds. 

“I believe you believe that,” he said reluctantly. “And it seems consistent with what I know, but be careful, Peter.” Peter reassured Ned a little more before saying goodnight. He put the phone on his nightstand and looked at MJ. She said nothing, knowing that Peter would start talking to fill the silence. 

“So...” he said. MJ took pity on him.

“I had the duration your boy fight to do some research,” she said, holding up her phone to show Deadpool standing on a rooftop, menacingly pointing a katana toward the unknown photographer.

“Oh,” said Peter. MJ sighed and crawled over to Peter, gently pushing him down and laying her body over his.

“You’re sure about this? About him?” she asked, her elbows on either side of his head. She searched his eyes as he answered. 

“I am. You heard what I told Ned. And you’ve met him, so you can draw your own conclusions.” MJ hummed thoughtfully, but didn’t question his reasons. Peter didn’t deserve her. He wrapped his arms around her and glanced toward the door. “You think May’s asleep yet?” MJ shrugged. 

“She and Happy said they were going to bed when I came in here.” Peter pulled a face, and MJ laughed. “Aww, it’s sweet.” 

“Nothing about Happy is sweet,” said Peter. 

“But he’s good for her,” MJ pointed out.

“I know,” said Peter. “He’s a good person,” he added quietly. Happy was a good person, and Peter was likely to get him killed. 

“Hey hey, don’t get like that,” MJ soothed, pulling him out of his guilt spiral. Peter was pretty sure MJ was close to reaching her monthly allotment of sympathetic comments, and he told her so. She rolled her eyes.

“Maybe I can think of a way for you to increase my tolerance,” she said, running her hand up his hip and dipping her fingers under his waistband. Heat pooled in his belly, and he pulled MJ’s hips into his. He trailed kisses along her neck.

“Like refilling your sympathy mana,” Peter said against her collarbone. 

“Too dorky, Parker, less talking.” The effect was lessened by MJ’s little gasp that followed when Peter nipped at the sensitive spot under her ear. But it didn’t take much effort for him to take that advice to heart anyway. 

Peter woke up at dawn the next morning, despite his lack of sleep the days before. He was naked, sweaty and tangled up in both his sheets and MJ, who had trapped him with a leg over his butt and an arm across his shoulders. She was deeply asleep, facedown on Peter’s pillow. In spite of her ice queen reputation, MJ was a furnace in her sleep. 

Peter freed an arm and ran a hand appreciatively over her backside. MJ mumbled in her sleep and pulled the sheet over her head. Peter lightly kissed her exposed shoulder and dragged himself out of bed. He pulled on a somewhat clean pair of pajama pants and closed the door behind him, careful not to wake MJ.

May was standing at the kitchen counter, watching him. “Good morning,” she said, making no attempt to keep the amusement out of her voice. 

“Hi.” Peter tried to will himself not to turn pink, but to no avail. 

“Coffee?” asked May. 

“God yes,” answered Peter. “I’ll be...” He gestured vaguely toward the bathroom. May snickered and went back to fussing with the coffee pot. She was honestly terrible at making coffee, somehow, but Peter wasn’t exactly feeling picky. He washed his face and made no attempt to tame his hair before returning to the kitchen and plopping down in a chair that had a stack of Pop-Tarts in front of it.

“You’re amazing,” he said. And he meant it. He was so relieved to be home. May set a cup of coffee in front of him that he knew would taste burned and overly sweet. He eagerly sipped it anyway. 

“If you make me a grandma in my 40s, I will murder you both,” May said as she sat down across from him. Peter blinked at her. May continued, “Do you - do I need to buy - get - something? For you two?”

“MJ is, um, on the pill,” Peter said, hoping to get this conversation over as quickly as possible. “And don’t make me a brother at 18, either,” he sassed and tilted his head in the direction of May’s bedroom. 

“We weren’t, um, loud, were we?” May asked hesitantly. 

“Oh my god, no, gross!” Peter exclaimed before coming to a horrifying realization. “Could you hear us?” He prayed the answer was no. 

“Oh honey, no,” May answered. “You were - well, I’m not going to think about that, but we didn’t hear anything.” She reached across the table and stroked his cheek. “You’re practically an adult now, and it’s just taking a bit of getting used to,” she said, a little tearfully. Peter took her wrist and kissed her hand. 

“I’ll always need you, though,” he said, and he meant it with every fiber of his being. May smiled and ruffled his hair. 

“So, I don’t mean to stress you out with all this,” May started, and Peter immediately began to stress out. “But Pepper wants to meet with you and your lawyer tomorrow to ‘wrap up loose ends,’ as she put it.” Peter exhaled, mostly relieved. That was fine. He could handle a meeting, even if he still felt guilty about dodging Pepper for the last month. 

“What?” May questioned, noticing Peter tense up.

“I’ve been kind of a dick to her,” he said quietly. “I’m sure she noticed that I’ve been completely avoiding her since ... the stuff with Beck.” May looked sympathetic.

“Peter, honey, she married Tony. On purpose. I know you both loved him, but he was a massive asshole. It’ll take more than being distant for a few weeks to drive Pepper off.” Peter laughed and teared up at the same time. May came around the table and hugged him. 

“It’ll be okay, baby,” she soothed. “We knew you were having a hard time. It wasn’t difficult to piece it all together. Do you think I don’t talk to Pepper? And she sees Happy nearly every day. If you think the adults in your life aren’t constantly gossiping about you, you have a lot to learn about parenting.” She tapped him on the nose. “But not for a decade, mister.” Peter smiled at her. 

“I know, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “No other plans I should know about?” May shook her head. 

“Nope, just lay low for a little while and get some rest.” She gave him a warning glance. “And absolutely no Spider-Man until you see Pepper.” Peter already felt the ache in his chest telling him to go out, but he knew May was right. He reluctantly nodded his head. He had MJ, and Ned would probably come over too, so that was enough until he could get back in the suit. And if Peter was being honest with himself, he needed the rest and the break anyway.


	5. Interlude

This was hell. Stark Industries was actually hell. Who would’ve suspected? Who knew hell was on earth this entire time?

“Matt, are you okay?” He felt Foggy turn his head toward him, his voice concerned. 

“Yes, this building is just...” 

“Expensive and tacky?” Foggy supplied. Matt shook his head. No, it sounded like the Spider-Man suit multiplied by a thousand. Every high-rise was full of cell phones, but this building (and the suit) had a buzzing current running through them. It was disconcerting. But he wasn’t about to say that out loud. Foggy understood it was sense-related and shrugged, but Matt could feel that he was extra honed in on him now. It felt nice that he was concerned. Everything had been so strained between them lately. But when hadn’t it been?

They stepped into an elevator that Foggy informed him “had both bronze and silver decor like an Old Testament idol.”

“It was gold,” corrected Matt.

“What?” said Foggy, distracted and now paying very little attention to Matt. 

“The calf, in the Bible. It was gold.” 

“Sure whatever, Matt, but this elevator doesn’t have any buttons?” A woman’s voice startled both of them. 

“Mr. Nelson, Mr. Murdock, welcome to Stark Industries. I will be taking you to your meeting with Ms. Potts and your client on the 17th floor. If you have any needs, I am here to help.”

That voice was not human in a way that unsettled Matt. Human voices all sounded different, but this voice had the same subtle inflection of a person except... it wasn’t. He’d heard that Tony Stark had developed complicated artificial intelligences, but knowing it and experiencing it were very different. 

Foggy seemed unbothered. “So,” he said to the voice, “who else is in this meeting we have unwisely accepted?” 

“Mrs. Parker, Stark Head of Security Happy Hogan, Colonel James Rhodes and Avengers Initiative Director Nick Fury.” What the fuck, thought Matt, that is way too many people in one room with a potential interest in Daredevil. 

“That seems like a lot of people,” Foggy said casually. But his heart had sped up. Matt’s nerves were soothed by the warm feeling from Foggy being on the same wavelength. It didn’t happen as much since the blip. 

“Ms. Potts took great care to invite only the people whose attendance was vital.” 

“No Wade Wilson?” Foggy questioned. 

“He declined,” answered the voice. 

“Really?” pressed Foggy. “Why?” Really Foggy, you can’t defense lawyer an A.I.

“Why do you think?” quipped the voice, the decidedly nonhuman voice that was definitely flirting with Foggy. Matt needed to sit down.

“I think that was a smart decision on his part,” said Foggy. “Do you have a name, elevator voice?” 

“I am FRIDAY,” she said. “I am present throughout the building and able to assist during your visit. You have arrived at the 17th floor. Please exit to your right and proceed to conference room 1720.” 

They stepped off the elevator, and Foggy took Matt’s arm to lead him in the right direction. Foggy claimed that this floor was more “office” and less “nouveau rich hell,” not that it made a difference to Matt. He was extremely unsettled by the constant AI surveillance, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. 

Matt and Foggy stepped into the conference room, the last to arrive. He felt Foggy’s hand tense slightly on his arm. This room was strung tight. Ms. Potts gestured for them to have a seat and quickly ran through introductions. 

Peter’s aunt looked stressed and had a protective hand on Peter’s arm. Peter warmed up slightly, happy to see Foggy and Matt. He was far less stressed than the last time Matt had seen him, but still on edge. Happy Hogan, attentive but relaxed as he sat on the other side of May Parker. James Rhodes, at Pepper’s side and seemingly nervous toward Peter for some reason Matt couldn’t deduce. Peter didn’t seem to notice.

Pepper Potts, in charge and completely at ease. Whatever her plan, she was absolutely certainly there would be no surprises. “Director Fury,” she said tightly, “you may begin.” She was not pleased with whatever he was about to say. 

“Do all these people really need to be here?” he asked. Pepper glared at him, and he sighed in defeat and looked to Matt and Foggy. “Issues of national security, privileged information, etcetera. I’m sure as lawyers that you understand when to shut the hell up.” 

From Peter’s snicker and the subsequent pinch from May, Matt was sure that Pepper had rolled her eyes. “FRIDAY, please turn off recording to this room for the duration of this meeting. 

“Of course, Ms. Potts.” FRIDAY sounded different when she answered her, as though she was more familiar with Pepper. So unsettling, almost as unsettling as the fact that Matt had already started thinking of the AI as a woman.

“Mr. Parker, I owe you an apology,” said Fury. To his credit, he didn’t grit his teeth or huff about it, but this definitely wasn’t a conversation he was happy about. 

He pointed at Matt and Foggy. “This is the shutting up part.” Fury focused on Peter again. “I assigned a shapeshifting alien to the Mysterio business. He was not equipped to handle the situation. I should have been there.” Pepper’s heart rate quickened slightly. Matt focused in on her. Guilt? It was subtle, but she was watching Peter with an air of sadness about her. Guilt, then. But Rhodes was still watching Peter nervously. Why?

“Where were you?” asked Peter. He seemed bewildered. 

“Space,” Fury answered. Inexplicably, Peter seemed less bewildered.

Foggy shifted next to Matt, and Matt could feel him get ready to launch into lawyer mode. Matt desperately tried to signal him to shut up, but Foggy was on.

“Shapeshifting alien, Director Fury?” Foggy leaned forward, elbows on the table. “It seems like my client, the minor you put in charge of this colossal fuck up, could really use a shapeshifting alien right now.” Pepper looked smug. Ah, so this was her idea as well, and it seems like she appreciated an aggressive dick on her side. Matt was out of practice and had misjudged basically everything. He squeezed Foggy’s arm appreciatively.

“Fine, yes, he agreed to help,” said Fury. Hell hath no fury like Pepper Potts, apparently. “Peter, you have our sincerest apologies for this mess. Talos will appear as Peter Parker half a dozen times for the next three months while you’re out as Spider-Man. Pepper will be in touch with the schedule.”

Peter nodded. His heart rate slowed to calmer than Matt had ever heard it, even during the nap he took at Matt’s apartment. Poor kid. The idea of his own identity getting out gave Matt hives. He couldn’t imagine dealing with that at 17.

“Are we finished here?” Fury directed the question to Pepper as he abruptly stood up and left without waiting for her answer. Matt felt the room relax, and it quickly became extrovert social hour. Foggy slid right into the madness while Matt observed quietly.

Foggy chatted with May and Happy as  
Peter animatedly filled Pepper and Rhodes in on the last few days. Matt quickly picked up that the nervousness from Rhodes was due to his obvious relationship with Pepper, of which Peter was apparently unaware. Matt felt for him. Peter was a forgiving kid, but that conversation would involve a lot of feelings for everyone.

Peter sped over the Daredevil part of his story and his heart rate picked up, but he didn’t so much as twitch in Matt’s direction. Pepper, on the other hand, subtly glanced at Matt, and his blood ran cold. Her gaze lingered on him just a bit too long. Did she know? Peter was oblivious; he had kept Matt’s secret. But Pepper seemed to know.

Matt endured the conversations, too off-kilter to join them. Foggy made his way over and touched Matt’s elbow with a soft, “Are you okay?” Matt nodded tightly, a lie that Foggy didn’t believe for a second. 

“Well, my partner and I should be returning to our many cases,” Foggy said, still with a gentle hold on Matt’s arm. Peter literally leapt over the table with his inhuman reflexes to hug them both at the same time. 

“I will never get used to that,” May commented, shaking her head. Peter laughed cheekily and blew her a kiss. 

“The creepy ceiling crawling is worse, but Morgan thinks it’s cool so he does it all over the house,” said Pepper as she approached Peter. The motion Peter made suggested he stuck his tongue out at her. “Don’t be a stranger,” she added fondly, kissing Peter on the cheek. Peter exhaled shakily but quickly regained his composure and nodded. There was some background there that Matt was missing.

Pepper turned to Foggy and offered her hand. “A pleasure, Mr. Nelson.” Foggy was pleased, and Matt had to suppress an eyeroll at how predictable he was with women in power suits. Everybody had a type. Matt offered his hand to Pepper. “Thank you,” she said, her voice emotional. And oh, she definitely knew. Matt grasped her hand and immediately noticed that she was warmer than she should’ve been. Warmer than was any kind of normal. Was she enhanced? Matt had no idea, but he kept her hand a moment too long in his surprise. Foggy eyed him questioningly but Pepper took it in stride. 

Foggy waited until they were out of the building and a block away before bombarding Matt with questions, starting with, “What the hell was that?”

“Well for one, she absolutely knows who I am,” started Matt. Before he could continue his freakout, Foggy interrupted.

“She does have an actual AI working for her and also, she was married to a guy who tracked down Spider-Man through YouTube.” Foggy had that tone of voice that suggested Matt was being an idiot. It was exponentially more common since the blip. It wasn’t a playful tone, and every time, it tugged inside Matt’s chest. He huffed a breath, ran a hand through his hair, and continued. 

“Iron Man tracked down a 14 year old in a spider hoodie, which is not the same thing, Foggy.” Matt had a fleeting thought about deescalating that he pushed aside. “And she’s hotter than a person should be, but her body temperature is normal.” Matt could feel the look that Foggy gave him. He punched Foggy in the arm. “Not like that.”

“You can always tell, Matt,” Foggy said. He was flippant, not the least bit stressed. Matt was still keyed up from Foggy’s earlier tone, and it grated on his nerves when Foggy wasn’t taking something seriously. He blamed the attitude on Wade’s influence, which was unfair but Matt wasn’t feeling particularly charitable.

“If you’re about to go on a Deadpool rant, I don’t need to hear it,” Foggy said wearily. Matt bit back a reply, put off by Foggy’s accurate read of him. “Oh, so it was that. Again. And I thought this afternoon was going so well, but here we are.” He dropped his hand from Matt’s arm. Matt felt its loss in his soul. 

They walked the rest of the way to Fogwell’s in silence. Matt listened to Foggy’s steady heartbeat instead of the city noises around them. If Foggy suspected, he let it alone.

“Do you want to come in for a while?” Matt asked as he unlocked the door. “I don’t have any kids here tonight. I promise to go easy on you.” 

“No, you wouldn’t,” said Foggy, but his voice was light, not carrying any of the tension from earlier. He slid his phone out of his coat pocket and frowned. “It’s later than I thought. I don’t want to be late for any bad decisions.”

“Dinner with Marci?” questioned Matt. It was usually a safe topic, even after the break-up. 

“Yeah, she asked.” Foggy tightened his ponytail. He’d always messed with his hair, but the addition of the ponytail had been jarring. Matt woke up and it had been so little time for him, but half a decade for Foggy. 

It wasn’t a stretch to say he was a different person. The ponytail, the beard, even his heartbeat felt different. Foggy had grown more muscular, which was not something he ever cared about before. It wasn’t for show; Matt knew he sparred with Wade, first because Hell’s Kitchen had become so dangerous, and then because of habit after the blip. He always turned down Matt’s offer to join him in the gym and dodged questions about it if pressed.

“If I’m lucky, she’ll get dinner,” Foggy continued, oblivious to Matt’s internal deliberations. “And then I’ll buy enough rounds for us to get shitfaced, and then we’ll have regret sex.” Foggy sighed wistfully. “She’s really good at that.” 

“So you’re not exactly over, then?” Matt said, taking a chance at poking at a boundary.

“No Matt, nothing is ever really over.” A tired sigh, messing with his ponytail again, and a squeeze of Matt’s arm to say goodbye. “Take care, man.” Matt always wanted to ask why when Foggy had this particular sad tone in his voice, but the words died in his throat. He never heard it unless they were alone. He always sounded more at ease around Wade, or Karen. 

“And stop obsessing over Pepper Potts, because I can hear your thoughts!” Foggy added as he walked away. He turned around and did something with his hands - finger guns? - before continuing on his way. 

\- - - - - 

Matt was totally obsessing over Pepper Potts. 

A few hours in the gym with a punching bag convinced him that this wasn’t something to leave alone. How did she know, and more importantly, why let it slip to him? Tony Stark had been a fucking idiot about secret identities, but Peter was practically her bonus kid. She wasn’t flippant about keeping vigilante identities under wrap. 

Matt needed to talk to her, but not in that damn AI building. In a move that he was sure no one in his life would approve of, Matt set out to track Pepper. Unsurprisingly, she was a difficult woman to find alone. She parked in the garages at Stark Industries and her condo. He wasn’t about to confront her in broad daylight, or anywhere near her kid’s school. She had meetings that ran late, but she always seemed to be in the company of other people. After a week of tailing, Pepper parked a block away from an evening yoga class, and Matt took his chance. 

He dropped down behind her from a fire escape and noted the jump in her heartbeat and the buzz of the metal glove pointed at his chest at the same time. 

“Oh shit,” Pepper exhaled, her pulse immediately slowing down. “You could’ve asked for my cell!” The glove retracted into a band around her wrist, the same technology that held Peter’s webs. 

“Less trackable this way,” said Matt. 

“My cell is probably less trackable than you on the streets all night,” she pointed out. That was...fair. But the AI made Matt nervous, not that he was about to share that. “So what do I owe the pleasure to?” Pepper took Matt’s elbow as they walked and guided him through several unoccupied alleyways to get to her car. It was not the same way she had come from her car. Interesting that she had an alternate route planned. 

“I have some questions for you,” Matt said, not his smoothest moment. The heat from her hand was distracting, and he was always somewhat disconcerted in unfamiliar parts of the city. 

“I’m sure you do,” Pepper said. “Starting with how do I know who you are, when and all that, I assume?” Matt made an affirmative noise and she continued. “Tony tracked down all the New York superheroes before the blip. I’m sure his plan was to build a database for the entire country, but he never went back to it after he came back from space.” It was still bewildering to Matt people were just going to space and coming back like it was nothing. 

“He only ever contacted Peter though?” Matt asked. Pepper nodded. “Why?” 

“He found him first and went for it.” Pepper hesitated, and Matt could tell she was choosing her words carefully. “I think Tony saw himself in Peter, a little bit.” 

“Did you know how old he was?” Matt asked. He might as well be direct about it. 

“No,” Pepper said adamantly. “I was running the company, Tony was doing whatever Avengers shit was going on, and we were honesty not in a great place with each other. I didn’t ask.” 

“But?” Matt pressed. Because there was more. Pepper was wound tight.

“Happy let it slip that he was only 15, and I laid into Tony. You can’t just... give a teenager a million dollar suit and let him loose on the city with no guidance, and then take the suit away and let him almost kill himself!” Pepper clenched her fists and huffed, anger quickly dissolving to sadness. 

“Oh,” said Matt. 

“Yes, oh,” Pepper said. She sniffled, her eyes teary. “I’m sorry, I’m being ridiculous. I’m just - I worry about Peter. Tony was gentler after he lost him, after Morgan was born, and I think Peter needed to see that.” She steadied herself with a few deep breaths. “Anything else?” Yes, thought Matt, five million questions about Peter and what Matt should be doing about a child with the strength to throw a bus and the weight of the world on him. But now was not the time for that. That Peter was a stressful subject for Pepper right now was extremely apparent. But there was the one other thing...

“Maybe...” Matt hesitated and he felt Pepper turn toward him, curious. “Are you enhanced?” Pepper hummed thoughtfully.

“Why?” she asked. 

“You’re warmer than the average person,” Matt answered. “I would say hot, but I don’t think you’d let me hear the end of that.” Pepper’s laugh echoed in the alleyway. 

“It’s interesting you can feel that,” she said. “No one has ever noticed before. Do you remember when Tony disappeared, a decade ago, and people were blowing themselves up?” Matt nodded. It felt like ancient history, before the blip. He couldn’t imagine how long ago it felt to everyone who lived through his missing five years. 

“Well, the short version,” Pepper began, tightening her ponytail. It was a stress habit for her. Was it for Foggy? Matt wasn’t sure, but he vowed to pay more attention to it. “Is that it’s genetic manipulation through nanotechnology that is not exactly compatible with human life. It’s been neutralized, but there are residual effects. I heal slightly faster than I used to, and there’s the high temp.”

“But it’s not like a fever,” Matt treaded carefully. He didn’t like anyone prying into his enhanced senses, but Pepper seemed at ease. He held out his hand to her. “Do you mind?” She placed her hand in his, her head tilted curiously. “Your temperature is normal, a little on the lower end of average actually, but your blood feels hot, which probably sounds insane to you.”

“No, you’re right,” Pepper said. “It’s neutralized but still there, channeled through my bloodstream so it’s always moving. Less chance of exploding that way, or so people much smarter than I am believe.” 

“That’s - just - it’s definitely something,” said Matt. Pepper nodded. 

“It’s weird. It’s okay to say it’s weird.” Matt laughed. Pepper was lovely. He was a little bit disappointed that they were already to her car. 

“A Leaf?” he asked. He expected something flashier. He was pretty sure Pepper rolled her eyes. 

“Tony was the car half of the relationship,” Pepper said. “If I charge it at the Tower, it runs on one hundred percent sustainable energy. Plus, it’s customized. Won’t be sneaking up on any ninjas though.” She tapped on the roof. Matt flushed. Note to self that Peter is incapable of shutting up.

“I didn’t mean any disrespect to your - “ He gestured helplessly at the car. Pepper shook her head and laid a hand on his arm. She was meticulous about her body language, and she adjusted to touching him more because he couldn’t see her. Smart. 

“None taken, promise,” Pepper said truthfully. “FRIDAY doesn’t have to be everywhere. I don’t need you to be around her if it makes you uncomfortable.” Matt nodded. What could he even say to that? Pepper owed him nothing. She was far kinder than he’d expected. There were two sides to everyone though, and he’d seen her be ruthless with the media. No wonder she was CEO. 

Pepper squeezed his arm before she got into her car. “This isn’t my business,” she said, “but you should think about going back to law. I’ve done my research. I know you were a hell of a lawyer.” Matt gave a half smile. He’d thought about it, but he couldn’t imagine a practice without Foggy and he could imagine even less asking him about it.

“Well, you never know where life will take you,” he answered, trying to keep the creeping sadness out of his tone. If Pepper noticed, she left it alone. 

“You know where to find me if you do,” she said, handing him a business card with her personal cell in Braille. Matt considered himself a fairly well prepared person, but he had nothing on her. He stuck the card in his pocket and nodded before darting up the closest fire escape. He watched Pepper until she was safely in her car before heading back to Hell’s Kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who would’ve thought writing during a pandemic was so difficult? I hope everyone is staying healthy at home!


	6. Peter V

Peter settled into a new normal as both Peter Parker and Spider-Man. To his great relief, most people seemed to believe the story spun by Pepper, with the last of the skeptics convinced when *Peter Parker* attended a Stark Industries charity event while Spider-Man simultaneously stopped a bank robbery on the other side of Manhattan.

As it was, none of this was on Peter’s mind as a blind lawyer kicked his ass in a boxing ring in an old gym. Peter dodged Matt’s fist and found himself on his back with a hand around his throat and a Daredevil snarl in his face. Peter huffed. 

“It’s not fair,” he whined. “I have to pull my punches with you. It takes a lot of - “

“Can’t you lift an airplane?” Matt interrupted.

“I mean, probably?” 

“So you’ll always have to pull your punches.” Matt stood up, unwrapped his hands and gracefully slid out of the ring. Peter took his chance and sprinted up behind him, with no plan but a hope that instinct would take over. Matt grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face down onto the mat. Blinding pain shot from his nose to his forehead, but it was nothing Peter couldn’t handle. It was his pride that was wounded, he thought bitterly as he sighed without bothering to move.

“Are you bleeding?” Matt asked, suddenly concerned. He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder that was angrily shaken off. 

“Yes, fuck, it’s fine,” Peter said, sitting up on the edge of the ring and pinching the bridge of his nose. He winced. “It’ll heal in like, 45 minutes.” Matt looked contrite. Peter felt guilty for making him worry. Matt had concerned adult face, and Peter was just so done with everyone looking at him like that.

“Okay, I think we’re done here today,” Matt said, reaching out to squeeze Peter’s arm affectionately. “Let’s not, uh, guilt spiral about this.” Peter laughed, and Matt smiled. 

“But Peter,” he started, suddenly serious, and here we go with the lecture, thought Peter. “You have to - “

“I know, I know, stop relying on the spidey sense so much, but it’s not like I can turn it off! Or on!” Or explain how it works at all. Matt had been testing the spidey sense for weeks. It was fascinating to him. Less so to Peter, who was living it and quickly realizing that it didn’t work on people not perceived as a threat. Unfortunately, Peter couldn’t pinpoint what made a person threatening, because it apparently wasn’t breaking his fucking nose. 

Matt was observing Peter silently in that way where it was like he knew Peter’s soul. It always made Peter nervous. “Let me see your nose.” 

“Can I - are blind jokes off limits, or...” Peter trailed off as Matt laughed. 

“I kind of gave you that one, didn’t I?” he said as he gingerly touched Peter’s face, his fingers running over Peter’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t need to be set. It should heal fine.”

“Yeah, it always does.”

“You’ve broken it before?” 

“Sure, Spider-Man stuff. I’m not getting in fights at school.” Peter heard his phone notifications ping from across the gym. “Speaking of fights at school,” he grumbled as he dug through his backpack.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time to set up notifications for Spider-Man news, but this was Flash’s latest live feed, and he didn’t really feel up to hearing about how much Peter Parker sucked. But it was probably smart to know how much shit he would be in before school started back next week. 

For the most part, Flash went on and on about his sweet new car, which was better than the last few weeks of rants about how OBVIOUSLY Peter Parker was not Spider-Man. These rants were interspersed with a begrudging admittance that Peter was apparently smart if he was allowed to touch Spider-Man’s suit, but that didn’t make him cool or interesting, and he could still be the dumbest guy at smart kid school. Flash’s car superseded all this, though.

But of course he couldn’t resist in the end. 

“And you still suck, Parker,” Flash said as he signed off. Peter sighed. 

“You want me to kick his ass?” asked Matt. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be the adult here?” asked Peter, but it brought his spirits up a little. Matt was joking, but he was also still Daredevil. He would probably menace a high schooler if Peter asked and was really pathetic about it.

After the obligatory fussing from Matt about being careful on patrol, Peter had a pretty normal night and was settling into an uneventful late morning. This lasted until Ned interrupted Peter’s sleeping-in by bursting into his bedroom and immediately interrogating him.

“Dude, what happened to your face?” asked Ned. Peter poked the side of his nose and winced. What a way to wake up.

“It’s not really healing like it usually does, I guess.” Peter pressed on his ribs where he’d been kicked by a mugger the night before. No bruising, that he could tell. “It just must’ve been a harder hit than I’m used to.” But Peter was unsettled. He tried to distract Ned with a LEGO set he’d found at Goodwill, but Ned kept coming back to his nose.

“You’ve been hit by a train, Peter,” Ned questioned, growing more frantic by the minute. “Are you sure your healing is working?” No, is decidedly not what Peter answered.

“Of course,” he said lightly. “I’m fine from patrol last night and I always get hit a few times.” 

“Fine from patrol, huh?” Ned crossed his arms and waited for Peter to incriminate himself. “You walk into a door then?” 

“No,” he said reluctantly. Ned waited. “Okay fine, it was Daredevil, but it was an accident.” Ned didn’t look any less skeptical. “He felt really bad about it!” 

“Peter,” Ned started, in that pleading voice that always made Peter’s stomach tighten into knots. “Just be careful, okay?” Some variation of this conversation happened between Peter and Ned nearly every day, and it made Peter fee guilty and exhausted with the knowledge that he couldn’t really do anything to be safer.

Over the next couple days, the bruising faded and the memory was pushed to the back of his mind. Peter continued sparring with Matt because he really was learning a lot, not just fighting but also honing his senses.

Still, Peter was pretty sure that this is not what Ned had in mind when he told him to be careful. But Matt was worrying his bottom lip and had been otherwise distracted for a couple days, and Peter caught him at a weak moment and managed to needle the reason out of him. Peter used this chance to demand extra training.

“But ninjas!” said Peter, for approximately the eighth time. Matt rubbed his forehead with his eyes closed. He sighed, opened his eyes, met Peter’s gaze which was always so weird, and Peter knew he’d won. 

Matt tossed Peter the knife he was holding, which he had been using to gesticulate animatedly about why he wasn’t going to teach a high schooler to dodge bladed weapons. Peter caught the knife reflexively. “Good,” Matt said, pleased. Peter preened. He was a sucker for approval. “The first rule of fighting someone with a knife is usually to expect to get cut, but control where it lands.” Matt held up his arm and drew an imaginary blade across his wrist. “Not here,” he said as he turned his hand and drew the blade across the back of his arm. “Here, where you won’t bleed to death.” 

“I probably won’t - “ Peter started and Matt immediately interrupted.

“Don’t assume your healing will work,” Matt said. “We don’t know what is going on, or who is controlling them, or what mutant-targeting bullshit they have. You’re fast, so controlling where you get cut is a last resort. Don’t let them touch you.” Matt sighed again, and he sounded tired. “This isn’t for fun, Peter.” 

“I know,” Peter said quietly, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m taking this seriously, I promise. And I won’t go looking for trouble, and I know this is just in case...” Peter trailed off, and Matt scrutinized him silently for a long minute. 

“Aright, lets do this,” Matt said finally. Peter tossed the knife back to him, and Matt immediately went for his arm. It was easily telegraphed, a gimme for Peter that he dodged easily. They both sped up as they sparred. Matt matched Peter’s speed but held back. While Peter was stronger, Matt was more skilled. He often told Peter that he was more reckless than he needed to be. Peter, if he was being honest with himself, spent a lot of time fighting idiots with guns and giant monsters he could hit with his full strength. It didn’t do much for finesse or close combat. Adding that to Peter being distracted recently, and zigging when Matt zagged should have been predictable. 

“Shit shit shit shit shit!” Matt exclaimed. Peter was too stunned to resist when Matt pulled his hands away to get at Peter’s bleeding forehead. Peter stared down at the blood on his hands. He closed his eyes. His stomach was in knots, and he was suddenly freezing. 

“Peter, hey, are you with me?” Matt was above him, holding his shirt to Peter’s forehead. Nothing hurt but the scent of blood was overwhelming. Matt helped him to his knees and Peter threw up Gatorade and stomach acid. It was awful. Peter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at Matt, who was still pressing the t-shirt to Peter’s head.

“Why am I down here?” Matt looked stricken. 

“You started going into shock,” he said. His voice was gentle, but he sounded desperately guilty. 

“It’s, it’ll be fine,” Peter said. “Really.” 

“Don’t try to comfort me,” Matt said sharply. “I stabbed you in the goddamn head.” He left Peter in charge of holding the shirt against his forehead and fetched a bag from across the gym.

“Tis but a scratch,” Peter muttered, prodding at the wound. It was deep, but it would heal in no time. 

“Stop touching!” Matt snapped. “And don’t quote Monty Python at me.” He dropped the bag in between them with a huff and started rummaging through it. “You need to be seen.” 

“Uh, no,” said Peter, terrified of the idea of Spider-Man in a hospital. 

“I have a friend who sews up vigilantes,” Matt clarified as he finally pulled a clean shirt out of the bag. Peter watched with apparently no chill as Matt pulled the shirt on, covering most of his scars. “Go ahead, ask.” 

“Man, I mean, how are you still alive?” 

“My friend who sews up vigilantes,” Matt answered. He seemed to anticipate the next question. “She found me in a dumpster. The first time, anyway.” Peter blinked at Matt, bewildered. 

“Oh,” Peter said. “But I mean, I heal super fast. I will be totally fine in like, two hours or whatever.” 

“You almost went into shock because I stabbed you in the _head_.” Matt tilted his head in that way that meant he was looking into your soul. “Are you actually going to try to convince me that was a panic attack?” 

Peter shrugged. “Why not both? You know, I’ve had an entire building dropped on me, so I’m experienced in recovering from both shock and panic simultaneously.” Peter shrank away from the deadly look Matt gave him. How was that even possible? It’s not like he could practice death looks in the mirror. “Okay, fine, take me to get stitches or whatever.” Peter rolled his eyes and Matt pointedly ignored it.

Matt made the world’s briefest phone call before leading Peter through alleyways and up fire escapes to knock on an apartment window. The woman who let them in did not look amused. 

“At least it’s not 4am, like usual,” she said dryly. She looked Peter up and down and put her hands on his cheeks. “What did you do to this sweet baby?” She basically cooed at Peter, who hated himself a little bit for leaning into it.

“I am not even a child,” grumbled Peter. They both ignored him. 

“I may have stabbed him in the head, so...” Matt trailed off. Peter didn’t need super senses to know that vigilante nurse friend was pissed.

“Matt, what the fuck?” she said as she washed her hands in the kitchen and motioned for Peter to sit at the table. 

“I’m actually Spider-Man, so it’s not as bad as all that,” Peter started. 

“Matt.”

“Claire, I - “

“Are you training a CHILD?” She gently pressed at Peter’s wound while admonishing Matt. Peter had to admire her multitasking. “I can hear your brain coming up with a bunch of bullshit lawyer justifications, but my question to you is: do you think, with your background, that you are an appropriate teacher for anyone, let alone a traumatized teenager?” 

“I’m not - “ Peter started, completely intending to lie, before Matt interrupted. 

“Are you still bleeding?” Matt looked panicked. Peter went to touch his forehead before Claire batted his hand away. “Shouldn’t you have stopped bleeding by now?” 

Yes, absolutely. Peter felt panic start to rise. “It’s not consistent, always...” he lied weakly. Oh my God, it’s Matt. Matt can hurt him? Is it the ninja thing? Can all ninjas hurt him? Does Matt even count as a ninja?

“Please don’t lie to me,” said Matt. “It’s just a frustrating exercise for both of us.” Peter laid his head down on the table, remembered he was bleeding and immediately bounced up, leaving a streak of blood across the wood. Seeing his own blood again made Peter woozy, which was a new and unexpected part of this fucked up adventure.

Claire discreetly sat a trash can next to Peter’s chair.

“I don’t think there’s anything left, but thank you,” he said miserably. Claire patted his hand sympathetically. 

“Let’s get you fixed up, and Matt will get you home before I kill him.” Peter nodded and tried to will his stomach to settle. 

“Why aren’t you healing?” Matt was pacing. It was stressing Peter out. Matt was stressing Peter the hell out. 

“Go to the roof,” said Claire. Matt’s head swiveled in her direction.

“What?” Matt was so shocked that it was almost funny. If Peter could have laughed without dry heaving, he would have.

“He’s going to have a panic attack if you can’t settle down,” she said. Matt stood unnaturally still, blinking at her. “So. Fuck. Off. I’ll call you when I’m finished.” Matt wordlessly disappeared out the window.

“Um, wow,” said Peter. He was slowly realizing that for being Daredevil, Matt had an awful lot of people in his life who were willing to call him out. Peter wondered if Matt did that on purpose, or if it just happened that way. 

“Eh, don’t be too impressed,” Claire said. “He’s listening to us from up there anyway.” She handed Peter a bottle of orange juice before she started stitching him up. “So why aren’t you super healing this gaping head wound?” 

Peter knew Matt was listening, but it was easier to talk when they weren’t feeding off each other’s panic. “I have some theories,” he said. Claire raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so I can kind of sense danger, like before it happens. It’s why I’m pretty good at not getting shot or whatever. But my aunt threw a banana at me and hit me in the face, and I thought maybe I just needed a break.”

“Do you need a break?” asked Claire. She was so gentle, and Peter’s chest ached from it.

“Desperately,” he whispered. He took a deep breath, gathering himself together. He could get through this without crying. Everything was messed up, but he could fix this. He just had to get through this explanation and the fallout that was undoubtedly coming from it.

“But it’s not that,” Peter continued. “I can still dodge some asshole’s bullet. And if that asshole gets a hit in, I feel fine.” Peter stopped. He didn’t know if it was better or worse that he couldn’t see Matt’s reaction. 

“But?” Claire questioned after he’d been silent for a while. She’d finished stitching up his head and had applied steri strips for good measure.

“Matt got me in the nose last week and it took two days to heal,” he rushed out. Claire sucked in a breath. 

“Oh, boy,” she said. She stripped off the gloves and took Peter’s hand in hers. “Breathe, honey.” Peter was panicking, but he managed a few breaths. “And?” Her voice was soft, but Claire was firm. He needed to get this out. 

“I didn’t - it didn’t really connect... before. I mean, that was not the first time I was punched in the face and it’s all just kind of background noise but I swear I wouldn’t have been like ‘hey, let’s do knives!’ if I thought Matt not triggering the spidey sense - which he doesn’t, because I don’t think it works on people I trust - if I thought that the spidey sense was related to healing.“ Peter inhaled deeply after his rushed explanation. He felt a little better, getting it out, until Matt climbed in the window. Peter tried to will his heart to shut the hell up, but to no avail. 

Matt came over to them and put his hands on Peter’s shoulders with a light squeeze. “I can hear every part of you panicking.” 

Peter dropped his head to the table and groaned. It stung, but at least he wasn’t bleeding all over a stranger’s furniture anymore. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Matt ruffled his hair.

“It’s okay, Peter,” he said. Peter exhaled heavily. Matt didn’t sound mad. He just sounded tired, but he always had that aura of exhaustion that Peter associated with superheroes. Vigilantes. Whatever.

“Are you going to yell at me?” Peter asked, head still on the table. Matt sighed sadly. 

“No, of course not.” Peter looked up. Claire was giving Matt the evil eye hard enough that he was probably able to feel it. Her gaze flicked down to Peter. 

“Does he yell at you?” Peter frowned in confusion and shook his head. “Then why did you ask?” Her gaze settled on Matt again, and the evil eye reappeared. Peter put his head back down on the table, utterly exhausted. He did not say, because Tony Stark. He did not say, because he took the suit and I almost died. He did not say, I thought I was over it, but I’m not. Instead, Peter said nothing. 

“Let’s get you home,” Matt said when it was clear that Peter wasn’t sharing. “I’ll call you a cab.” Peter shook his head and turned around to look up at Matt. 

“You don’t have to do that, I’m fine to web home,” he objected. Peter stood up and wobbled, dizzier than he expected to be. 

“No,” said both adults in unison. Peter frowned unhappily. 

“A cab is fine,” he grumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, catching a tangle that was sticky with blood. He shuddered. Peter needed to figure out the blood thing and fix that fast. Spider-Man can’t be swooning at the sight of his own blood. Matt and Claire were giving him identical concerned looks. “I’m fine though, really. 

“‘Had worse’ can stack up,” Claire warned. Obviously, thought Peter. It must’ve shown on Peter’s face because Claire looked sympathetic. “Just take care of yourself. You have friends, family, who understand what you do?” Peter nodded. “It’s okay to lean on them.” But he already did, all the time. There was only so much you could expect from people. Everybody had a breaking point, and Peter felt like lately, he was pushing up against it with everyone. 

Something about him must have screamed sadness because Matt hugged him before he put him in the cab. It was nice, but Matt had his own life to deal with. Training was one thing, and managing Peter’s neuroses was quite another. Peter’s problems were his own, and he was sure he could cope without dragging anyone else down with him.


	7. Peter VI

“I can’t believe you’re starting your senior year with stitches in your head.” May fussed with the collar of Peter’s shirt and tried to fix his hair with a licked fingertip.

“Gross, May,” Peter said and ducked away. “I’m not 5. It’s fashionably... a mess.” May rolled her eyes at him. 

“Just let me baby you a little,” she said, kissing his cheek and pulling him into a hug. She was warm, and Peter sighed contentedly. “You’re sure this is what you want?” May asked. Peter pulled away and looked her in the eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he said, and it was the truth. He wanted to finish school even though Pepper offered to arrange literally anything to keep him from having to go back. But Peter wanted to go back; he missed Midtown. He was a ball of nerves, but he could do this. He wanted to do this. 

“It’s okay that you’re nervous,” May said. Peter rolled his eyes. 

“It’s just first day anticipation,” he said. It wasn’t just that, but he didn’t want to worry May too much. She already tip-toed around him like he was going to crack into a hundred pieces. But he’d been feeling a little bit better lately. Matt was teaching him to meditate, and it was helping a lot. 

_yo bb boy eat a good breakfast n dont be late!_

And Wade was back! Peter felt relieved to know he was in town, even though he hadn’t seen him yet. Ellie had a trial month with her mom that seemed to go okay? But Wade wanted to spend time with her and make sure everything was settled before school started. 

Peter had stopped by the office a couple times to check in with Foggy, and Ellie had seemed pretty chill about staying with her mom while Wade was gone. Peter felt like he was in a weird spot with them. Ellie was close to his age, and Wade definitely mother-henned him, but Spider-Man and Deadpool were... not exactly peers, but would need to have something akin to a professional relationship. Wade pinky promised to Peter before he left that that he was getting paid for “stuff retrieval” and didn’t plan on killing anyone, but when had Deadpool been much of a planner?

“He’s trying,” Foggy had told Peter the last time he was at the office. “He’s been trying, since he got Ellie. You don’t exactly operate inside of the bounds of the law either.” Foggy raised an eyebrow. Okay, checkmate. 

But today was the first day of school, and Peter was determined not to let his mind wander and get caught up in non-school details. 

_ty n yes I eat breakfast. my metabolism is stupid high. hope Ellie has a good day too xx_

Peter received a reply of eight hearts and eight legs. He rolled his eyes, but his heart felt mushy. Peter was still unhappy that Wade had called him out on what Peter reluctantly admitted were daddy issues, but it didn’t stop him from feeling that way toward Wade. 

“Hey?” questioned MJ from next to him. Peter looked down at their joined hands. He looked up at her amused face. “Welcome back to reality, Mr. Parker.” 

Peter ran his hand through his hair. “Oh, uh, happy first day of school?” he tried. MJ rolled her eyes.

“How long have I been here? Best guess, c’mon.” Peter pursed his lips and shook his head. No idea. He had no idea. “Ten minutes, Parker, ten minutes. What if I had been a radioactive spider? What then?” She held up the hand holding his for emphasis. 

“That is - you know that I would rather be touching you than not. It’s second nature. It feels more normal than my own skin!” He cut off the protest he knew was coming with a kiss. MJ slid a hand into his back pocket and pinched him. 

“You’ve gotten awfully sentimental lately,” she said. Peter felt cold wash over his heart. He was clingy, and she wasn’t going to put up with his issues forever. MJ must’ve seen the panic on his face because she frowned. She pulled Peter toward her with the hand still in his pocket. 

“I’m just teasing, please calm down,” she soothed. “I could never leave someone who looks like that naked.” Peter snickered. MJ met his eyes and stroked her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, you’re on edge. I’ll try to limit my default personality to Ned.” 

MJ did not, in fact, limit her withering remarks to Ned, but her being normal made Peter feel normal. For the most part, everyone else was normal too. A few classmates commented on his eventful summer, but they were satisfied with Peter’s short response that, “Yeah, it was pretty crazy for a while.” 

“Welcome back, Parker!” Flash said, elbowing Peter into a locker door and literally knocking him out of his thoughts. Peter had avoided him all day, but didn’t manage to dodge him before his last class. Awesome, this had returned to normal as well.

“Can’t believe the Bugle framed this loser as Spider-Man,” one of Flash’s friends said. Maybe it was all the Daredevil training, but Peter felt Flash’s heart speed up. Flash didn’t so much glance at Peter though. 

“Fucking stupid for sure,” said Flash derisively. He shoved Peter up against the locker. “Meet me out back after school, dick.” Flash was facing Peter, his expression not visible to the people behind him. He raised his eyebrows and mouthed, “Yeah?” It was not aggressive, at all. Peter was confused but kept up the act and shoved him off. Flash flipped Peter off and disappeared around the corner. 

“Flash was being weird,” Peter whispered to Ned while they were supposed to be inventorying their lab equipment. 

“He’s just an asshole, Peter,” Ned answered. He was only half paying attention to Peter as he surreptitiously texted Betty under the table. 

“I thought you guys were over,” Peter said, glancing at Ned’s screen. Too many kissy emojis. Peter rolled his eyes.

“Hey!” exclaimed Ned, turning his screen away from Peter. “So we had some time apart, and I think we’re both ready to try this again.” Peter sighed. MJ would’ve been so much more helpful with this Flash thing, but she was at yearbook on the other side of the building and kept her phone off. He couldn’t think of a way to sneak over and get her attention before meeting up with Flash. 

“Hey, can you tell MJ I’ll find her later?” Peter asked a couple minutes before class ended. “I have a...thing.” Ned looked excited for a second before Peter added, “No, not that kind of thing.” He wiggled his fingers like the itsy bitsy spider. “Just a school thing.” 

“Sure, yeah, I’ll let her know,” said Ned. “Text if it becomes a - thing.” Peter nodded. Guy in the chair, always ready. He reluctantly headed out to find Flash. 

Who was smoking, actual cigarettes and not even vaping. It made Peter’s nose itchy. He must have made a face because Flash snorted and dropped the cigarette, stubbing it out with his expensive sneakers. 

“You’re just gonna leave that there?” Peter asked. Flash rolled his eyes and made a show of picking up the butt and carrying it over to a trash can a couple yards away. When he walked back over to Peter, he stood close and his eyes roamed over Peter’s face. Flash shook his head in disbelief. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before,” he said. Peter’s heart skipped a beat. Logically, he knew that not everyone would believe the cover story about Spider-Man, but it was nauseating to experience it, and even worse that it was Flash.

“Um...” Peter started and suddenly felt too light-headed to finish. Flash actually looked sympathetic, and it took away any remaining conscious thought that Peter had.

“Are you freaking out?” he asked. “Please don’t do that. I am not equipped to handle other people’s emotions.” Flash held up his hands defensively. Peter forced himself to take a breath. This was fine. It was just Flash, who had peeled raw strips off Peter’s self esteem for years. But - high school problems. This was just a high school problem, Peter told himself frantically.

“No, it’s fine,” Peter said. Flash looked skeptical. “Really. I’m not - whatever you think.” 

“You’re definitely that,” Flash said. “But I’m here because I owe you an apology.” Right, now that he knew Peter was Spider-Man. Peter crossed his arms and frowned.

“I don’t need anything from you, Flash,” he said. Flash held up a finger. He was unphased.

“But you might!” he said confidently. “One minute to hear me out?” Peter nodded. What could it hurt? 

“I guess almost dying a second time stuck because I regretted being a dick to you,” said Flash. He sounded genuine as he picked at a stray thread on his sleeve. “Not just you, but let’s be honest, it was mostly you, owing to you being -“ he gestured at Peter. “Relatively passive, and smarter than me.” He narrowed his eyes at Peter, who gave a skeptical half smile. “So, I’m sorry.” Flash bit his bottom lip nervously. 

“Apology accepted, I guess,” said Peter, and Flash looked visibly relieved. “But what’s with the bitchy Instagram?” The old Flash was immediately back, and he looked at Peter like he was the dumbest ass.

“Hello, I am upholding your secret identity!” Flash shook his head in disbelief. “Peter, really. How is this is any way different from Pepper Potts’ press conference?” Peter was taken aback. This was more self-reflection than he thought Flash was capable of. It was strangely overwhelming. Peter sat down hard on the sidewalk. 

“I just need thirty seconds,” he said to his knees, his arms squeezed around his legs. He felt Flash sit down across from him and looked up. The sympathetic look was back. It was out of place on Flash. 

“You disappeared, HE disappeared, after the Bugle outed - him,” Flash explained. “It made sense, with everything that had happened around school, you know, but my average follower was easy enough to convince that Spider-Man wasn’t a teenager.” Flash shrugged. “If it turned out you wanted to own it, I didn’t do any harm by calling you Penis Parker a couple times.” 

“Wow, thanks,” said Peter, but smiled at Flash anyway. Flash shrugged and looked away after a second. He took a breath and looked apprehensive again. 

“That was the Parker apology,” Flash said quietly. “It was coming no matter what, but it’s not really enough. I - I was an asshole to bring up the Stark Internship after... yeah.” 

Peter swallowed and stared at an ant on the sidewalk. Did half the ants disappear, too? He used to think about who was dusted and who wasn’t all the time, but the compulsion had faded, mostly. He let the ant crawl onto his finger and dropped it in the grass. 

“You didn’t know,” he said finally, looking up at Flash. 

“It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know,” Flash snapped, meeting Peter’s eyes. “I’m sorry because I was awful, and I wish I hadn’t made it worse for you, but I’m sure that I did. And if it means anything to you, I really am sorry.” Peter’s eyelids burned and his throat was tight. Not in front of Flash, please hold it together, he told himself. 

“I saw him die,” is what came out in a hushed whisper. Peter buried his face in his knees again and breathed shallowly. 

“I’m... I’m so sorry, man,” said Flash softly. “Not even your dorky ass deserved that.” Peter choked out a laugh. He looked up at Flash and wiped his eyes. 

“Oh my god, you are such an ass,” Peter said, and Flash grinned. 

“Yes, but it worked!” he said, tapping the side of his forehead. “You’re tech smart, but I can people.” Flash stood up and offered Peter his hand. “As though there’s any universe in which you need help up.” 

“It’s still nice to offer,” Peter said, “which is obviously why you did it. So thank you, and I’m sorry I freaked out.” Flash waved him off. 

“I can appreciate that you’ve been through shit,” he said, and reasonable human Flash was honestly still a little disconcerting to Peter. “I’ll keep the Penis Parker shit to a minimum, but I feel like it’s best if I dial it back slowly?” Peter nodded reluctantly. He was right, but it still kind of sucked even of Flash didn’t really mean it. “And I’ll let you know if any, um, super stuff comes up in the influencer community.” 

Peter crossed his arms. “The influencer community, are you even a real person?” he asked skeptically. Flash threw a hand across his chest, mock offended. 

“I’ll have you know, Parker, that I have my finger on the pulse of Queens and the superhero fan community in general.” Flash made a show of dusting off his jacket sleeve before turning and walking toward the parking lot. “Later, Parker!” 

Later, in the comfort of his own bedroom, Peter described this encounter with Flash as surreal and confusing. Ned was giving MJ a look from his spot on the floor. MJ was behind Peter on the bed, wrapped around him with her hands pressed against his middle. She managed to avoid Peter’s arms, which were animatedly flailing as he told the story. He imagined that MJ was mirroring Ned’s look. 

“You freaked out, didn’t you?” MJ said, close enough that her breath tickled his ear. At his non-answer, Ned’s face fell. 

“Peter, you have to be more careful,” he admonished. “It’s Flash! Who cares if he’s sorry? He’s sorry now, but what about later? Peter.” Ned’s shoulders sagged, and he had that worried look that Peter had grown to dread.

“You’re kind of a dipshit sometimes,” MJ said. Peter closed his eyes. They were right, and he felt awful. His chest was tight and he curled in on himself. He attempted to pull away from MJ, but she tightened her hold around his stomach and hummed a “no” at him. He felt the vibrations down his spine. That usually comforted him, but now it grated. 

“Please let me go,” Peter whispered. MJ released her grip and Peter collapsed onto his comforter, balling his fists up in the fabric. He focused on his breath, hot and suffocating with his face pressed into the comforter.

“Michelle.”

“I didn’t -”

“You have to be more careful with him!” 

“This is just who I am!” 

Then silence. MJ leaned back against the wall, her legs just touching Peter’s bare feet. Her breaths were too quick. Ned stayed still on the floor, occasionally sniffling.

“Please don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Peter whispered hoarsely. He sat up and wiped his eyes for the hundredth time that week. “So how do I fix this?” 

Ned and MJ shared a look. 

“Peter, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Ned said gently. Anger flared in Peter’s chest. 

“Stop treating me like I’m fragile!” he exclaimed. He ran a hand through his hair, agitated. He was not unstable, he was not losing it, and even if he was, he was responsible for his own shit. MJ tentatively reached out and laid a hand on his thigh with a gentle squeeze. Peter met her worried eyes and promptly burst into tears. “Today was really hard,” he sobbed through his hands. He shook off MJ’s attempt to hug him and Ned’s reassuring words. “I just need - just a few minutes alone. Please.” 

Ned started to protest, but MJ hopped off the bed and grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the room with her. Peter tried not to dwell on the inevitable conversation he would be having with May after she dragged what happened out of Ned. MJ was a wall, but Ned was helpless against May. Their voices faded as they moved away from his room, but if Peter focused, he could still make out their conversation. For his continuing mental health, he shut them out. Matt had trouble doing that because, he said, it was like trying to ignore a conversation happening right next to you. Peter didn’t envy his heightened senses. He was miserable enough as it was.

After a while, Ned slowly opened Peter’s door and looked questioningly as Peter. 

“It’s fine, cmon.” Ned returned to his spot on the floor and MJ followed. She looked smug. “What?” asked Peter. 

“I had a chat with Flash,” MJ said. “You will have no problems with him.” Peter made a noncommittal noise, and MJ narrowed her eyes at him. 

“He was nice, for once,” Peter said helplessly. “I can’t have nice things?” 

“Ouch, Parker,” MJ said. She scooted off the bed to join Ned on the floor. Ned was already in placating mode. 

“No, no, it wasn’t like that,” he said, to both of them. “His motives are pure. He’s extra terrified of MJ now, but that’s just a bonus, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” said Peter, running a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna...” he trailed off and gestured toward the window. 

“Right right, Spider-Man stuff, we get it,” said Ned, giving him a thumbs up. MJ stared at Peter with crossed arms, picking him apart with her gaze. 

“Gotta go hit something,” she said eventually. “I get it.” Ned raised his eyebrows. Peter shrugged. She wasn’t exactly wrong. He just needed out, for a little while. He felt caged. 

“Just be careful,” Ned added, ever the mother hen. 

And Peter was careful, at least until that weekend. The first week of school had gone better than he’d expected, honestly. Flash mostly stayed out of his way, MJ ran AcaDec with an iron fist, which was comfortingly predictable, and the Spider-Man speculation whispers were minimal. But Peter was drained and on edge, simultaneously. Matt noticed immediately. 

“Tough week at school?” he asked, as Peter put his fist through a punching bag. Peter frowned at his sawdusty hand and the hole in the bag. 

“Um, sorry,” he said. Matt looked sympathetic, and Peter rolled his eyes. “I don’t need your - whatever. It was fine. I just feel...”

“On edge?” Matt suggested. 

“Yes!” Peter punched a second hole in the bag. It was already beyond fixing. “Fight me?” 

“Nope.” 

“Come onnnn, Matt,” Peter whined. He hit the bag again and it broke apart, spilling musty smelling sawdust all over the floor. Matt wrinkled his nose. 

“Didn’t really think that through,” Peter said to the mess at his feet. Matt laughed but stopped abruptly, swiveling his head toward the door. Eight seconds later, it was thrown open, clanging loudly against the wall. 

“The party’s here!” Wade called loudly. Peter sprinted across the gym and catapulted himself at Wade, wrapping him in an enthusiastic hug. 

“I missed you!” he said. Wade returned Peter’s hug with a squeeze.

“Aww, I missed you, baby boy!” Wade said. “Sorry I couldn’t get away sooner. You teenagers are all the same with your endless drama,” he teased. Peter pouted, and Wade tapped him affectionately on the head. 

“Red,” he greeted Matt, who hadn’t moved from the other side of the room. 

“Wade,” he said flatly. Wade rolled his eyes. 

“You invited me here, dour devil, so maybe cut the attitude,” Wade said, but he didn’t sound nearly as irritated as Matt looked. 

“The kid asked,” Matt said and disappeared into the back of the gym without another word. 

“You guys are way bitchier without Foggy around,” Peter said before his brain caught up to his mouth. Wade barked a laugh. 

“Matt’s awful prickly about killing for a guy whose MO is grievous bodily harm,” Wade said, poking Peter in the chest with a knowing glance. 

“But you don’t really...?” Peter trailed off, biting his lip nervously. Wade shook his head. 

“You know I stopped taking hit jobs, Spidey,” Wade said. “Not since Ellie. But I’m not gonna go out of my way to save an asshole.” But you would, remains unsaid. Peter could live with that. 

Peter glanced over to where Matt had been. He was still out of sight, somewhere in the back of the gym. Peter turned back to Wade and shoved him playfully. “Fight me!” 

“Peter,” Wade said in that parental “no” tone that he heard from May all the time. 

“Please?” said Peter hopefully. “I literally can’t hurt you, and you can’t accidentally hurt me.” Lie. 

“Why aren’t you sparring with Matt?” Wade asked, narrowing his eyes. Uh, shit. Peter covered as best as he could because if Wade knew Matt broke his nose, he would not be okay with any of this.

“Just Matt being Matt,” Peter said, trying to sound flippant. Wade stared him down for an entire minute before sighing in defeat. 

“Fine, fine, go get in the ring,” he said, already pulling off his hoodie. Peter dived under the bottom rope and tumbled from the floor to land balanced on the opposite rope. “Goddamn show-off,” grumbled Wade, making no attempt to hide a smile. 

“Alright kid, ground rules,” said Wade. 

“Uuuhhgg whyyyy?” Peter whined. Wade ignored him. 

“Don’t kill me,” he said. “I’m told it’s traumatic for the people around me, and you have buckets of that already, kiddo.” Peter rolled his eyes. 

“Like I was planning on killing you,” he said. 

“If I thought it would be an effective teaching strategy, it would absolutely be an option,” Wade said, and promptly grabbed Peter’s ankle and had him pinned to the floor in two seconds. Peter blinked in surprise. He was such an idiot. Wade fell backward onto the mat and howled with laughter. 

“Surprised pikachu!” he wheezed. “Oh my god, I might die anyway from the look on your face.” Peter sat up and glared at Wade. 

“Baby boy,” Wade admonished, still flat on his back and wiping tears from his eyes. “I know you’re all into compartmentalization, or whatever,” he waved his hand flippantly. “But you’re still fighting _Deadpool_.” Wade had a dangerous glint in his eye. “The talking is half the fight.” 

But this time, Peter was ready. Wade grabbed for him, but Peter was already back on the top rope, crouched and ready to spring. Wade nodded approvingly. 

“So that’s pretty much it for your rules,” Wade said. “I mean, I can come up with more since your brain is seventy percent formed, at best. Don’t do drugs! Do drugs even do anything to -“ Wade was interrupted by Peter leaping onto his back and pulling him backward onto the mat. Wade grabbed his wrist, but Peter scrambled out of his grasp and ended up on top, pinning him. 

“Aww, good job Spidey,” Wade said, extricating a hand and pinching his cheek. Peter scrunched his nose up. 

“I should’ve kept your arm pinned,” he said. Wade snorted. By this time, Matt had wandered back over to them and was watching silently from just outside the ring. Peter glanced at him, and Matt gave him the tiniest nod. Wade continued to ignore Matt and took the opportunity to sweep Peter’s leg and knock him on his ass. 

“Ouch,” he said petulantly. Wade continued monologueing.

“Sixty-five percent of your brain, maybe. So don’t do drugs, spider metabolism aside. Stay in school! I know you’re a smarty pants but don’t get distracted or knock up that scary girlfriend of yours.” 

“Oh my god, Wade!” Peter said, turning pink. “We - no, I am not even dignifying that with an answer.” He flipped Wade onto his back with one arm and was back on the ropes in seconds. Wade gave him a thumbs up from the ground. Peter hopped down and offered him a hand. 

“Nice work, kiddo,” he said as Peter pulled him up. “Back’s never gonna recover though.” Wade stretched and his spine cracked loudly. 

“That’s just cuz you’re an old man,” said Peter, dodging the noogie he saw coming from miles away. He glanced at Matt again, who was still watching silently. He looked back at Wade. 

“Hit me,” Peter said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He was a ball of pent-up energy. Wade raised his eyebrows. 

“Uh, no,” he said. “That’s against MY rules.” 

“Just once?” asked Peter. “It’s for science!” Wade looked over at Matt, who made no attempt to communicate with either of them.

“Science?” questioned Wade, and Peter started talking.

“So you know how my spidey sense like, doesn’t work on you? Or people that aren’t like, trying to kill me or whatever? Based on some, uh, stuff that I’ve picked up, I think my spidey sense is tied to healing, kind of? Like if my spidey sense doesn’t go off around a person and they accidentally hurt me during sparring or whatever, it doesn’t heal as fast. But I need more data, you know, so if YOU hit me and it still hurts in 45 minutes, that’s pretty good confirmation...” Peter trailed off at the murderous look on Wade’s face.

Peter’s spidey sense screamed too late as Wade darted out of the ring and punched Matt in the nose with a loud crack. Nausea hit Peter with no warning, and he sank to his knees. 

“You are supposed to be the ADULT here, MATTHEW!” Wade was on a tear. Matt had produced a towel from somewhere and was holding it against his face. His nose was definitely broken. “If I ask you how he knows that, am I going to fucking murder your fucked up ass?” 

“It’s likely,” Matt answered slowly. Wade screamed in frustration and stomped to the back of the gym, frantically texting on the phone he’d just pulled from his cargo pants. Seconds later, a tinny version of “Jolene” echoed through the gym. Wade listened for a few seconds before he spoke. 

“I don’t care. Come get him or I’m gonna toss him off the fucking roof.” Peter looked at Matt, who was standing rigidly still but clearly listening to the other side of the conversation as well. Peter tried to concentrate, but Wade was too far away, and he was honestly too rattled to focus. “What the fuck ever. Ten minutes!” 

It was a long ten minutes. No one spoke, or even moved. Wade was leaned against the far wall, muttering to himself animatedly. Peter could barely look at him. Guilt was tearing him up inside, but he felt like he was missing a puzzle piece with Wade. Even if Wade had hurt him, it would’ve healed, just slower. It would have been fine.

Finally, the door creaked open and a scattered looking blonde woman entered. She rushed over to Matt and fussed over his face. “Karen, it’s fine,” he said, brushing off her concern. She pursed her lips disapprovingly and walked over to Wade. They spoke in hushed whispers that Peter couldn’t hear until the end. 

“You got the kid?” she asked, looking over at Peter, still hunched over in the ring. 

“Yeah, I got him,” Wade said, eyes on Peter for the first time since he went at Matt. He watched as Karen, who Peter vaguely knew as a former colleague of Matt and Foggy, approached the ring. She leaned her arms on the mat and watched Peter for a few seconds.

“You okay?” Karen asked. She had a kind voice. 

“Yeah,” Peter answered. He swallowed to wet his dry throat. Karen looked skeptical. “Really, this isn’t the first time I’ve been yelled at for fucking up.” Peter could feel Wade’s attention laser focused on him. It made him nervous. 

“I’m going to take Matt and go then, yeah?” she said. “Give me your phone.” He unlocked it and she put herself in his contacts. “Just in case,” she said, giving him a small smile. She was so pretty and sweet, and for the life of him, Peter couldn’t figure out how she ended up hanging around with Daredevil. But Matt did what she said and followed her obediently. 

Wade took his time coming over to Peter and eventually stood over him, arms crossed and anger radiating from him. Peter felt awful, his spidey sense silent but nerves gnawing at his stomach. 

“Get up.” Peter stood up and stared at the floor. Wade tipped Peter’s chin up to look at him. “That was fucking stupid,” he said. Peter’s lip quivered and he tried to hide his face, but Wade held him firm. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered. Wade let him go but Peter withered under his gaze anyway. He wrapped an arm protectively around himself, as though that would help with the anxiety tearing up stomach.

“Why?” 

“Wh - what?”

“ _Why_ are you sorry?” Peter stared blankly at Wade. Wade waited, all crossed arms and angry dad energy, for Peter’s brain to catch up. 

“I kind of lied,” Peter answered. 

“Oh, you _kind of_ lied?” parroted Wade. He sounded so pissed. Peter dropped his eyes to the ground on instinct. 

“It was shitty,” Peter whispered. “I knew you wouldn’t even spar if you knew, and I got - I got caught up in it and my - scientific curiosity, or whatever - I just.” Peter sighed deeply. “I’m a fucking idiot, and I... I can’t. I’ve lost control of my life and I just don’t know anything anymore!” Peter swiped at his eyes angrily. 

“Hey, hey, baby boy, that’s maybe a little dramatic,” Wade said, pulling Peter, who was now a sobbing mess, into his arms. “You’re still a dumb kid, and I say that with fondness for all of the dumb teenagers in my life. But you have the added stickiness of Spider-Man, which is a super adult responsibility, ya get me?”

Peter could feel Wade’s chin digging into the top of his head when he got particularly animated. He felt marginally better. Wade called him an idiot and lectured him on bodily autonomy which made Peter feel awful (but he deserved it) and didn’t even get huffy when Peter rolled his eyes like, eight times at everything else. 

“Wait, did you say the stickiness of Spider-Man?” Peter said, pulling away from Wade, who cackled maniacally. “Dad jokes like that could ruin your reputation.” 

“Hmm, you think there aren’t people into Dadpool? You’d be wrong!” Wade grinned at Peter’s exaggerated gagging noises and slapped him on the back. “Now, let’s go feed you before you keel over from nutrient deficiency because I can literally see your blood sugar dropping so don’t even argue with me, Peter.” 

And thus began Taco Saturday, which Wade admitted didn’t have the same ring to it as Taco Tuesday, but he wasn’t about to keep Peter out after patrol on a school night. Peter knew that Wade was keeping an eye on him because he didn’t trust Matt, and it rankled him that he didn’t trust Peter to handle himself with Matt, which Peter begrudgingly understood but tried, unsuccessfully, not to spend too much mental energy worrying about.

“Red wants to take you out in the field,” Wade said, completely out of nowhere and causing Peter to choke on a nacho. Wade automatically thumped his back a few times and kept talking. “I think it’s a terrible idea but Foggy think you’ll rub off on him. Hope springs eternal for lawful good defense lawyers.”

Peter coughed again and stared at Wade. “Oh my god, I want to so bad!” He had begged Matt to patrol with him, but he was like a ninja made of stone, who really liked the word no. 

Wade rolled his eyes. “You think that, but Daredevil isn’t Matt.” Peter rolled his eyes back. 

“The first time I met him, he was Daredevil,” said Peter smugly. 

“He was dressed as Daredevil,” Wade corrected. “That wasn’t Daredevil.” 

“He was a little bit scary?” Peter offered. 

“He’s a lot scarier than that, kiddo.” Wade sighed and gathered up their trash, successfully aiming the bag at a dumpster five stories below. “Just...let me know when you’re going and text me when you get home, yeah?” 

Peter really, truly thought he was prepared for a Daredevil and Spider-Man team-up. Physically, he kept up just fine. Matt could map out an area with his senses, and it was amazing. He asked Peter to close his eyes and patiently talked him through honing each sense. By then, it was late and both literal and figurative darkness had fallen over Hell’s Kitchen. Queens could be rough, but it didn’t feel like this, with an undercurrent of danger and hopelessness. Peter was starting to understand how Foggy had latched onto Wade, since it was even worse when everyone was dust.

Matt skittered silently across buildings, following sounds for minutes before Peter could hear them. Peter stopped a mugging, and they helped a couple of lost college students drunkenly find their way home. They fell into a groove, Matt quickly becoming comfortable with Peter swinging them across alleys too far to jump. It was looking to be an uneventful night.

Until Matt snapped the wrist of a would-be rapist with no warning. Peter could hear each individual bone crunch. He felt dazed, frozen ten feet up on a fire escape. Matt - _Daredevil_ \- was on the ground and maiming the guy before Peter had registered a thing. 

The would-be rapist screamed as Daredevil pinned him against the wall and muttered a string of threats. The woman who would’ve been his victim let out a broken sob that shook Peter out of his daze. He landed quietly in front of her and held out a hand. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he tried, his voice soft. She nodded but didn’t move toward him. “You hurt?” 

“No,” she said, wiping her eyes. “He - we work together and I didn’t know him very well...” she trailed off. She was young, maybe a couple years older than Peter. The sound of a finger cracking caused Peter to flinch. 

“Red!” he snapped. Daredevil whipped his head around to Peter like he didn’t even know he was there. “I’m going to call the police.” 

“Hmm,” said Matt. He was still pinning the absolutely silent and terrified guy to the wall, but he was looking at the woman. 

“No police,” she whispered. 

“Indocumentada?” Matt asked gently, like he wasn’t Daredevil moments before. The woman nodded hesitantly.

“Stick him to a wall near the street,” Matt said, shoving the would-be rapist at Peter. Peter webbed the guy’s foot to the ground to spare his destroyed wrist and called the police before returning to the alley, where Matt and the woman were huddled together, talking quietly.

“He’ll walk you home,” Matt said, both of them looking over at Peter. He squeezed Peter’s arm approvingly before disappearing up the fire escape. 

“What’s your name?” Peter asked. 

“Paula,” she answered hesitantly. 

“Well, Paula, we’re going to get out of here the long way,” Peter said. She looked down the alley at the only way out skeptically. “Oh no, I mean up.” He held out a hand that she took without hesitating this time. “My dumbass already called the cops, which I completely intended to do after you were gone, and ah, I’m sorry about that cuz I just wasn’t thinking...” Peter scratched his head and sighed. “Anyway, hold on tight.”

Paula gasped as Peter swung them up to the roof, but she followed him without question down the fire escape and through alleys to reach her apartment. “Thank you, so much,” she said as she dug through her bag for her keys. 

“Are you okay?” Peter asked. “That was...a lot.” Paula smiled sweetly at him and patted his cheek. 

“You’re so young,” she said. 

“I am absolutely -“ Peter started to object, but she cut him off. 

“You are, Spider-Man,” Paula teased. “But I can keep a secret. And I am okay.” She hesitated before adding, with a sad smile. “Maybe Queens is different, but it takes a devil to control Hell’s Kitchen.” 

Peter exhaled heavily, considering her words. Hell’s Kitchen had become ground zero for criminal mischief, and worse, after the Chitauri invasion. “You weren’t dusted, were you?” Paula shook her head. “It’s better now, at least?”

“Yes, very,” she said. “My mother said it was like only the criminals were left, and no one was here to help. Sometimes, one of the worst would end up dead, on top of a telephone pole or even literally nailed to a building!” Peter felt cold rush over him, but if he swayed, Paula didn’t notice. “That would scare everyone into behaving for a while, but it’s much better now,” she said lightly. 

“Um, great,” Peter said. “Goodnight, then? Unless you need anything else,” he added in a rush, not wanting to seem dismissive to this poor girl who’d been attacked by a fucking coworker. Paula smiled sweetly. 

“No, Spider-Man, and thank you,” she said. Peter stayed until he heard the door lock behind her. It was late, much more than his usual night, but he still sent Wade a short text when he got home. He couldn’t begin to reply to his usual meme-filled texts, though. Peter decided missing the next taco meet-up would be worse than ghosting Wade.

Wade didn’t pry, but he noticed.

“You’re quiet tonight, kiddo,” Wade said. And quiet for the past few days, he didn’t say. He eyed Peter’s uneaten chalupa. “You gotta eat.” 

“Are you like that?” Peter asked quietly, without even meaning to. It just slipped out. They were sitting on yet another roof, legs dangling and shoulders brushing together, so Peter felt Wade tense. “Sorry,” he added quickly. 

“No, it’s fine.” Wade shook his head. He glanced over at Peter. “You’re aware of the internet? You’ve seen me in action. What could I even add to that?” 

“But it’s like you’re not even the same people!” Peter exclaimed. He ran a hand through his hair, growing agitated. “How can you be like this with me and like - I don’t even know how to put Deadpool into words, Wade. You nailed a guy to a building!”

“How’s that compartmentalization working out for you?” Wade asked, and it was said far too earnestly. It just made Peter more frustrated.

“Aaarrrrr!” Peter said, standing up and pacing, agitated. “I just - I am fucking Spider-Man! It’s not like I’ve never heard a bone snap, but I don’t do it on purpose, Jesus Christ!” He sat down hard in the middle of the roof. Wade scooted over to Peter and put his arm around his shoulder. 

“Foggy has trouble with it too, with Matt,” he said quietly. “More than he admits. A lot of it is the lying, but he struggles with it. I know he’s grumbly, but he’d be a good one for an impromptu vent session.” 

“But he doesn’t have a problem with you?” Peter asked, tucked into Wade’s side. He could feel his heartbeat from this close. It sounded like no other heartbeat, probably because Wade was sicker than a person should be able to live through. 

“Not exactly,” said Wade. “I mean, Foggy does not like the extra-legal stuff, but he’s surrounded himself with vigilantes so he puts up with it. But Matt lied about DD forever and Foggy is still put out by it. Plus, Foggy grades on a curve wherein he weighs my childhood trauma and cancer as shittier than Matt’s childhood trauma and blindness, but never tell him that cuz I’m pretty sure it’s subconscious.”

“Does it hurt?” Peter asked suddenly. He felt Wade’s sudden intake of breath and his heart speed up, but he didn’t pull away. 

“Geez, Petey,” he breathed. “You’re on a roll tonight. Yes, but some days are worse than others. The mental pain, though - “ He tapped Peter on the head. “It’s the worst part. I worry about all your trauma, Petey Pie. So try to be a good boy and avoid any more of it. You don’t have to worry about grown up me and all my baggage.”

Peter felt like flippancy would be the normal teenage response, but he burrowed further into Wade’s space instead. He wanted the warmth, the comfort, the protection, even if he was Spider-Man. 

“Thank you,” he said into Wade’s chest. Wade ruffled his hair affectionately.

“Anytime, baby boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience as I write while working from home with my wild children!


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have part two plotted out and partly written, so hopefully I can get to updating a bit faster this time around. Thank you for reading and sticking with this so far!

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. 

Daredevil wasn’t even supposed to be out tonight. Matt was recovering from a concussion. It was a slow night in Queens. Neither of them should have been out tonight. 

Peter sobbed as he held a bloody shirt against Matt’s stomach. Blood gushed from between his fingers and mixed with the rain soaking them both. Peter let out another broken sob. He could hear the muted clink of blades around them, but he could only look at Matt, face pale and skin cold. They were going to die, and Peter couldn’t do anything about it. 

* * * * * 

_Five hours earlier_

“You are sucking so hard tonight,” Ned commented as Kirby got KO’d by Samus for the third time in two minutes. Peter slid the Switch controllers over his webslingers and off his wrists. 

“Yeah, I’m just not into it tonight I guess,” he said, looking toward Ned’s window before he could help himself. 

“I thought you weren’t going out,” said Ned. “It’s so gross outside that not even the criminals are out.” Peter stood up from the floor, stretched and made his way over to the window. Ned was right; it was rainy and colder than usual for October. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass.

“The heart wants what it wants,” Peter sang under his breath. Ned threw a pillow at him at the same time as a tinny voice came through his phone.

“Or else it does not care.” 

“Pretty sure that’s not Selena Gomez,” said Ned.

“Pretty sure she wasn’t taking about Spider-Manning anymore than Emily Dickinson either.” Peter could almost hear MJ rolling her eyes. She was already in a mood, stuck at home watching her sister on a Friday. “But Ned’s right. The weather sucks and you said Daredevil won’t be out anyway.” 

“And you shouldn’t be out alone if there are ninjas,” Ned added. Peter cringed. 

“Ninjas?” MJ questioned. Her voice had an edge to it that Peter didn’t appreciate. Peter darted across the room and cut his phone off speaker. 

“Give me thirty seconds to explain!” Peter burst out before MJ could say anything. He stuck his tongue out at Ned for ratting him out. Ned did not look sorry. “It’s nothing, Red is taking care of it. He’s keeping me out of it, you know Wade would murder him if he let me do anything fun. I swear, I’m not being an idiot.” MJ exhaled, and Peter could hear her disapproval. “Michellllllle,” he whined. 

“No ninjas?” Worry crept into her usually even tone. 

“I promise, baby,” Peter said, flipping off Ned at the same time that he rolled his eyes. A few more “I know, I know” and Peter hung up the phone. “You and Betty call each other the dumbest shit I have ever had the displeasure of experiencing.” 

“Peter,” Ned said, grabbing him by the elbows for emphasis. “That is all true, but I would like to posit that it’s not the “baby” thing and is more that she lets you say it and you still have balls.” Peter dodged out of the way as Ned attempted to poke him in the stomach. 

“It’s probably the abs.”

“You can fuck off. My personality is amazing.” 

“Idiot vigilante is a personality type?” Ned teased. Peter frowned and turned away from Ned. He laid down on the bed and stared at the popcorn ceiling. Crawling across that texture was unpleasant. He was glad he was down here instead. The mattress shifted as Ned sat down next to him, laying two fingers softly on his pulse point. Peter didn’t pull away, and Ned wrapped his hand around his wrist.

“What just happened?” he asked. What did happen? Peter felt ill, or guilty, deep down. It wasn’t easy to describe. 

“I don’t know,” Peter said. “You hurt my feelings.” He rolled onto his side and curled around Ned. He was so warm. “Why am I always so cold?” Peter mumbled into Ned’s back. 

“Spider DNA? PTSD? You’re going to go out in spandex in the rain and get into trouble with Daredevil even though it’s fucking cold?” 

“Not spandex,” Peter mumbled, still leeching body heat off Ned. 

“That’s your takeaway from all that?” Ned shook his head disapprovingly but wrapped an arm around Peter and rubbed his back anyway. There was a lot of that lately, the lingering disapproval with physical comfort. Peter tried not to dwell on it. All the touching grounded him. The disapproval was, well, not the best feeling in the world but he knew everyone was thinking it even without the sighs and concerned glances. Peter dragged himself away from Ned and stretched, his spine cracking. 

“I’m going out,” he said, ignoring the still-disapproving look from Ned. “Minimal Spider-Man-ing, promise.” He offered Ned a pinky and pouted for extra sympathy. Ned rolled his eyes and accepted his pinky swear. 

“Don’t be an idiot,” he said as Peter climbed out the window. Peter grinned back at Ned and jumped. 

And immediately webbed to Hell’s Kitchen. He was just going to check on Matt; that wasn’t exactly against the pinky promise, right? 

Peter landed quietly on Matt’s roof and padded over to the Daredevil roof access. He was about to open the door when a hand closed on his shoulder. 

“Fucking hell!” he swore, quickly pinning his assailant. He blinked down at the black mask under him. “Oh Matt! I’m, oh my god I’m so sorry!” He jumped up and offered Matt a hand. He accepted and stood up, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Oh my god, your head!” Peter started to panic. “You aren’t even supposed to be - why are you out here? You have a CONCUSSION, Matt!” 

“If you use my name in the mask again, I’m going to regret what I do next,” Matt said dryly. Peter slapped his hands over his mouth. Well, his mask. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He felt like crying. Matt’s identity had legal implications that Peter couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Daredevil’s identity getting out could send Foggy to _prison_. 

“Are you having a panic attack?” Matt touched his wrist lightly. Peter shook his head, and Matt tilted his head slightly, considering him. He squeezed Peter’s wrist before he let go. 

“It’s fine,” he said, his tone final. Peter nodded. “We have a ninja problem,” Matt continued. 

“But your head?” Peter questioned. 

“It’s also fine,” Matt said. And that tone was really final. Peter hesitated, wanting to argue, and Matt tensed. Peter suppressed his anxiety about Matt giving himself brain damage. They had five more seconds of stare down for good measure. 

“Alright, lets go.” 

As they jumped from rooftop to fire escape to  
alleyway to rooftop, Matt explained that The Hand was back in Hell’s Kitchen and honestly, Peter could not follow all of the strands that ran through that mess of a situation, but ninjas = bad is all he really needed to take away from the lengthy mythology Matt was explaining. 

They were in a particularly grimy alleyway when Matt suddenly halted and looked up. 

“No...” Matt whispered under his breath. That and a belated buzz from his spidey sense was the only warning Peter got before they were surrounded by figures dressed in black.

“Matthew,” said a man who stepped out from the group. “You know what we want.” 

“Let the kid go,” Matt said quickly. “Do whatever you want with me.” The man chuckled darkly. 

“No.” The spidey sense buzzed as blades from either side of Peter sliced at his web shooters, somehow managing to jam them. Peter looked at Matt in panic, but he was focused on the man in front of him. Suddenly, Matt darted forward and all hell broke loose. They - ninjas, Peter’s panicked brain helpfully supplied - were so fast and quiet that Peter had trouble fighting them in the shadows between buildings. 

Peter connected with a body and heard ribs snap and a groan as they hit the brick building. Without his web shooters and outmatched in finesse, Peter couldn’t risk holding his strength back too much, but he still felt a twinge of guilt. It was quickly apparent that he was being deliberately separated from Matt. Peter tried to focus his senses, but the rain and fighting from every direction and the loud clang of blades disoriented him. Eventually, he was knocked to the ground. The scent of blood was overwhelming. He crawled toward the direction he sense Matt last and bumped into a dark mass on the ground. Matt was unconscious and cold, and Peter tried frantically to staunch the blood. He was only vaguely aware that they weren’t being attacked until he heard a voice boom through the rain. 

“Everyone is ALWAYS surprised that ninjas are made of meat. I know, I know, I was expecting you to be tougher, too.”

A katana flew through the air and sliced through the head of ninja inches away from Peter. Blood showered him, and Peter felt his stomach lurch. 

“This, here,” said Deadpool, gesturing to a knife in his leg, “Is my least favorite thing. It is not raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens.” The knife that was in Deadpool’s leg was now buried in the chest of the last standing ninja. She fell to the ground.

The alley was covered with bodies and blood mixing with the rain. Deadpool stood in the middle, katanas in hand, somehow wild-eyed even with the mask on. He looked over at Peter and Matt and immediately dropped his aggressive stance. 

“Peter!” Wade ran over, his weapons dropped and forgotten. He replaced Peter’s hands that were pressing on Matt’s wounds with his own. “You need to call for help. Use your AI to call for help.”

Peter blinked. His suit’s eyes blinked. 

“Peter, honey, you’re in shock but you need to snap out of it, just for a little,” Wade pleaded, one hand reaching out for Peter. He jumped back as if burned. Deadpool had massacred everyone in the alley. Peter was kneeling in their blood.

“You killed everyone,” he whispered. Hurt flashed across Wade’s face before he quickly schooled his expression, but his eyes were bright. Peter didn’t even know when he’d take off the mask.

A familiar buzzing sound made Peter’s heart skip a beat. He didn’t forget Tony was dead, but it rubbed against the grief that always ached in his chest as the blue armored suit landed heavily on the pavement. 

Pepper spent exactly three seconds taking in the situation before she was cauterizing the wound in Matt’s stomach with a tool from somewhere inside the Rescue armor.

“Shit, Matt,” she swore. “FRIDAY, is the med bay ready?” Her voice was tinny through the suit. She flipped up the faceplate and looked directly at Wade. “I can only carry him. Can you get Peter to the Tower?” 

“I, uh, am not sure if I am the best choice...” Peter stared unblinkingly at Wade, who chewed his lip nervously. Peter felt empty. 

“You are the _only_ choice,” Pepper said, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. Peter’s heart sped up with her agitation. His gaze bounced back and forth between Pepper and Wade. 

“Yeah, okay, of course,” Wade said. Pepper nodded and gathered Matt up into her arms, and then he was alone with Wade in an alley full of dead bodies. Peter was still kneeling on the wet - _blood-soaked_ \- ground. Wade reached for him tentatively, and Peter let himself be pulled to his feet. He looked up at Wade and felt nothing. Somehow, they ended up in a sports car, Wade driving recklessly. Peter watched the world speed by through the tinted windows.

“You can take off the mask, hon,” Wade said softly. Peter did and sucked in a deep breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The panic of earlier rushed back and his chest tightened. His hands scrabbled helplessly at his chest, his suit suddenly too constricting and literally dripping with bad memories.

“Breathe, baby boy,” Wade soothed. Peter closed his eyes, breathed, concentrated on Wade’s voice and tried to ignore the contradiction of his sleeping spidey sense with the vivid picture of Deadpool slaughtering his adversaries. “They would’ve killed you both,” Wade said, as though he’d read Peter’s mind.

“I know,” Peter said, refusing to meet Wade’s eyes. He was being unfair. Evil ninjas. This is a world with evil ninjas and maybe not killing anyone should have wiggle room. Maybe the middle ground is Daredevil, but he wouldn’t kill them either, not on purpose anyway. Peter’s mind raced with intrusive questions that he tried to shove into a box to be dealt with later. Always later. His stomach ached and his skin crawled with anxiety. “I’m being unreasonable,” Peter said instead of letting everything out to Wade. “I just - I just need some time.”

“Take all the time you need, Petey.” Wade, somehow the adult in this (and many) situations, but Peter wasn’t naive. He hurt Wade’s feelings after he’d saved his life. Peter tucked himself into a little ball and hid his face in his knees. He felt like crying. 

“Hon, we’re here,” Wade said, his voice hesitant like Peter would crack at the wrong tone. He probably would. Peter blinked as he took in his surroundings, the dimly lit parking garage under the Tower. It was mostly empty. Peter had only been in here a couple times with Tony. Deep breath. Don’t think about people dying. Don’t think about Matt dying. Wade’s hand gripped his upper arm. Don’t think about _ninjas_ dying. 

Peter isn’t sure how it happened, but he found himself in the brightly lit hallway of the med bay with a vague memory of Pepper telling him that Matt was in surgery but it looked like he would be okay. Foggy had rushed in at the end of the explanation but had disappeared since. 

A few yards away, Pepper was texting with one hand and gesturing animatedly with the other to Wade, who looked miserable and considerably worse for wear under the fluorescent lights. Did Peter look that bad? He glanced down at the mask in his hand and noted that he too was wearing a suit that was cut to hell and covered in blood. Peter swayed on his feet a little and was steadied by a gentle hand on his back. He hadn’t even noticed footsteps behind him. 

Peter looked up into concerned green eyes. Tony’s funeral had been a blur, but he’d been briefly introduced to Harley Keener. Why he was here at the Tower was a mystery that Peter’s brain skipped over. He glanced over at Pepper and Wade again, Pepper agitated and Wade looking absolutely gutted. Peter exhaled shakily, but it came out as a sob. 

Harley took Peter’s breakdown in stride.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”


End file.
